By the Light of the Moon
by anneoftheisland1984
Summary: A retelling of the love story between Alice/Uncas. Some scenes follow the plot of the film, but in general I am playing God and ensuring that these two get a lot more action and attention. Will definitely be very mature especially in later chapters. Mama ain't messing around.
1. Chapter 1

… _tell,_

 _Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?_

 _To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,_

 _To act a lover's or a Roman's part?_

 _Is there no bright reversion in the sky,_

 _For those who greatly think, or bravely die?_

So canted the words in Alice Munroe's head as she stared across the dark expanse of ocean to the distant shores of the New World. The journey had been treacherous, and her older sister Cora had spent most of the two months in their quarters, alternately retching from seasickness and moaning in pain from her migraines.

As guilty as she felt to admit it, Alice had been glad her sister was ill, as it gave her a respite from her sister's incessant ministrations. With Cora tucked miserably in her sweat-soaked bed, Alice was able to roam freely across the ship, slipping in and out of shadows like a ghost, barely noticed by the overworked crew and the wild urchin children from the lower berths. The rest of the gentlepeople were safely tucked in the ship's parlor, playing endless games of whist and gossiping about the latest society news.

Alice wisely stayed far away from the parlor, though she knew her sister Cora would be enraged to know she wandered the ship freely and without chaperone. However, while the oldest Munroe had no stomach for seafaring, the youngest Munore had no stomach for gossip, as she all too often had been the brunt of sharp tongues herself. Verily, that was the reason Cora and Alice were on the Queen Elizabeth II, hurtling towards unknown lands with just the barest amount of luggage and even less dignity.

Alice's cheeks burned in shame even as she stood alone on the cold and near abandoned deck. The memory of her past and the reason for their journey haunted her all over the ship, no matter how quickly and quietly she tried to move on her slippered feet. She put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Oh God, I wish I was someone else, she thought desperately. I wish I had never been born. The black waves called out to her as they did night and night, and again, 'twas only the fear of eternal damnation that kept the slight girl pinned firmly on the deck.

"Better get below, Miss Munroe."

She heard the Scottish baritone of Captain Quilleran even through her tightly covered ears. She looked up with embarrassment.

"Docking is never an easy affair. The water will be most dreadfully choppy," he said, his brogue reminding her of her father's own. "Your sister will desire your company."

"Yes, Captain," said Alice dutifully, turning away from the railing with dread. She hated the stuffy quarters almost as much as she hated the constant reproach in Cora's hazel eyes.

He chuckled at her downtrodden tone. "Not many ladies enjoy the sea as much as you seem to, if I may be so bold as to say so," he said.

Her full lips turned up slightly. "Oh, I do," she said, her tone suddenly earnest. "It's wonderful to feel so free...to be in constant locomotion, at one with the tides and the stars."

Suddenly her gray blue eyes clouded, and she nearly whispered, "I do hate to think of being on land again. I shall feel a prisoner after this taste of liberty."

His eyebrows raised slightly. He wasn't expecting such an admission from a gentle-born woman, let alone one that carried such truth and pain. Ah, still waters do run deep, he mused thoughtfully, as he watched the girl with silver-blonde hair disappear into the bowels of his ship. He clucked his tongue sadly. She was well right to expect to find the New World just as confining as the Old. The rules didn't change for women, especially not gentlewomen, no matter how far they roamed.

"'Tis God's will," he murmured, and he thought wistfully of his own dear daughter back in Inverness, before turning and heading to his cabin.


	2. Chapter 2

"God help me, I will never sail again," said Cora, her tone bitter yet more relaxed than it had been in weeks. In fact, the dark-haired beauty was almost glowing as she sank gratefully into the velvet lounges of The New Heritage Inn. The lodging was small and certainly not as luxurious as the ladies and gentlemen of London were accustomed to, but it was a welcome respite from the stale, close quarters of ships' cabins, so the ocean-side inn did a brisk business. Before they were even seated, Cora had ordered tea and sandwiches, sending a steward off to tend to their many bags.

Alice murmured in artificial agreement. She was filled with sorrow to leave the Queen Elizabeth, but she was earnestly glad that her sister would now get some relief from her constant nausea. Indeed, her cheeks were hollowed and her frame frail, making Cora appear weaker and more delicate than her fair sister for the first time in their lives.

However, when the cucumber sandwiches appeared on the table, this time it was Alice who felt her stomach lurch in aversion. Yet she knew better than to refuse and she piled her small china plate with the edibles. Since childhood, Cora had been endlessly strict and maternal with her, their own mother having died in childbirth with Alice. While she appreciated her sister's care as a child, she had of late found Cora's behavior to be nothing short of affronting. A seventeen-year-old young woman hardly needed direction on how to monitor her appetite, but she knew she could never voice such feelings to Cora. Or to anyone. No, Alice kept everything inside, where it belonged. Where it could hurt no one but herself, the one person who deserved it most of all.

"We should turn in early tonight," said Cora, taking small bites and displaying her well-bred manners, even after weeks of near starvation on the ship. Cora's credo was that a lady was always a lady, even when—especially when—it was difficult to be so.

"Yes," said Alice, not bothering to ask questions, as was her custom. She knew from experience that she would be given only whatever information her elders desired to give her.

"We leave at daybreak with Father's scouts," Cora explained, a bit of irritation in her voice. After weeks of being alone in bed, she wanted a rousing conversation, but Alice was behaving as though her voice-box was broken. "It should be a tiring journey, but not overlong."

"Aye," said Alice, her posture sinking slightly at the thought of seeing her Father in such a short amount of time. She had not faced him since the incident in London, and she dreaded the censure and shame she knew she would see in his eyes. Oh, God, I wish I was someone else, she thought for the hundredth time that day alone.

"Are you not excited to see our Father?" chided Cora, helping herself to another lump of sugar. "He was so kind as to pay for our passage and ensure our safe journey to him. Verily, there are some fathers who never would have given another farthing or thought to a daughter who—

Cora's voice stilled as the light faded out of Alice's large light eyes.

"I know I am indebted to our Father for his care and his forgiveness," said Alice, her voice deepening with emotion, "I know I can never undo the shame I have brought upon our family name. I thank you for your kindness and mercy as well. But now I think I should retire. I'm exhausted from the day's events."

Alice rose and Cora nodded curtly. As she watched her little sister walk gracefully from the dining room, she wrung her hands quietly in frustration. Damn the girl, she thought. She knew it was un-Christian of her but there was something about Alice's quiet, dream-like ways that simply enraged Cora. It was as if she was watching a drowning person sink willingly into the waves. For a girl as full of life and fight as Cora, such behavior was not just frustrating, it was almost an act of immorality. Not good sportsmanship at all, thought Cora, not at all.

The waiter brought fresh tea and biscuits to the table, and Cora easily pushed Alice out of her mind. She was always one to live in the moment, especially a moment that included chocolate biscuits.


	3. Chapter 3

It was shortly after noon. For over five hours, the small party had made their way through the wide trail in the wooded country. Their scout, Magua, was a fierce-looking Huron who made both Alice and Cora gasp when they sighted him through the window of their lodgings.

"Surely Father didn't want us to follow this savage?" Cora had asked the English emissary in horror.

The red-haired Major Duncan Heyward gave a weak smile as an apology. "Don't fear, madam," he said, "I shall accompany you as well as my men. It is simply that these red-faced guides do know the terrain better than we do. But if Colonel Munore puts his faith in this savage, particularly as it relates to his beautiful daughters, I do assure you that he knows what he is about."

If he expected Cora to blush at his compliment, he was sorely disappointed. She merely huffed in agreement and shouldered past him to the waiting horses.

Throughout the journey Alice could feel the irritation smoldering in her older sister's tightly coiled frame. She knew Cora was beginning to wonder whether coming to the New World was a mistake. Everything was so very different, and so very out of Cora's control. That gave Alice a small self-satisfied smile. Things had been out of Alice's control ever since she could remember.

The two sat in a carriage beside Duncan, while the rest of the group took the lead. Everyone had been nearly silent for almost the entire journey, as if the heat and the vastness of the land had robbed them of the power of speech.

But, as though on cue, the whole world seemed to explode into a cacophony of violence. It took Alice nearly a full minute to understand what was going on, to understand the blood and gunshots and shouting as it unfolded before her eyes. It was not until she was thrown from the carriage as the horses bolted and brayed that she suddenly came to grips with the current reality. She fell into the forest's undergrowth on her belly, the impact knocking the wind out of her for what seemed like an eternity. She lay cheek-first on the dead leaves, suffocating from the inside out, as the gunshots seem to become quieter and further away. _Is this really how I shall pass?_ The girl wondered. _After all my imaginings, is it here I will die in this foreign land_?

"Get up, Alice!" hissed an angry voice in her ear, as her older sister roughly pulled her to her feet. "It's over. We've been attacked by Indians and nearly killed!"

Her voice was shrill. Alice blinked away her confusion, looking at the now quiet forest in wonderment. It was as if she was in a fairy tale. Then she saw the bloodied corpses on the leaves in the distance and she understood: This was no enchantment. This was real.

Her knees nearly buckled, but a strong hand tucked under her elbow kept her afoot. "Careful, Miss Munroe," scolded Major Heyward. "We have been besieged by savages. You ought to sit down and rest while I ascertain our next move."

"I told you we ought not trust a red face!" hissed Cora, nearly pummeling the red-coat on his chest with her fist. "I told you this was dangerous! My father never would have agreed to such an arrangement! You must have misunderstood, you fool!"

Normally, Alice would blush for her sister's impoliteness, but suddenly she realized they were not alone. More figures came out from behind the trees and for a second, Alice thought she might scream. But then she saw a white man, hailing to Duncan with a hearty sound. Reinforcements already, she thought. Papa thought of everything.

Suddenly feeling weak and bruised and strangely disappointed, she sank onto the ground. Cora and Duncan walked eagerly towards their saviors. Just as she was about to close her eyes, she felt something moving beside her. She looked up slowly and saw a tall, broadly built Indian standing before her. He was carrying a bloody tomahawk and breathing heavily. Alice knew she should cry out for help, but something about his presence brought comfort, not fear. His hair was long and so black it was almost blue, and his eyes were the darkest she had ever seen. She continued to stare at him impudently, unaware of how much time had passed before she finally caught herself and realized he was speaking to her—in perfect English no less.

"I said, are you alright, lady?" he asked again, his voice not impatient despite the fact that he obviously had been asking her for a while.

Alice blushed. Then, with a jolt, everything that just happened seemed to sink in. She gasped, and stood up forcefully, stumbling over her long rose-pink dress as a result.

The Indian caught her with one smooth motion. Holding her shoulders firmly, he waited till she stilled.

"It's over now," he said, "Are you hurt?"

"Not…not….I think I am fine, sir," she finally murmured, though she absent-mindedly stroked her sore ribs without thinking.

He looked down with concern in his kind eyes, but before he could say anything, a rough voice called out from behind him.

"Uncas!" yelled the white man. "Come over here and help me find what supplies we can. We must move _now_."

Cora sprang up beside Alice, her hazel eyes shining with what appeared to be excitement. "Can you believe it, sister? A white man traveling with savages," she whispered. "Think of what would have happened to us if they hadn't been passing by! We could have been scalped or… ravaged… or worse!"

Alice's stomach churned slightly. The thought of Cora's last supposition made her nearly ill. Some things are worse than death, she knew. As her eyes clouded with the familiar darkness, she felt someone looking at her, and was surprised to see the Indian's eyes again on her face. She should have been shocked by his boldness, but the expression was not unkind or appraising. She could not make heads or tails of it. Then, he turned quickly and continued to rifle through the dead redcoat's bags, giving no heed to the white man who was arguing vehemently with Duncan. Near the horses, she then noticed an older Indian, who was watching the whole thing with distrust in his eyes. In fact, he seemed almost enraged with the lot of them.

"What's happening?" Alice asked, the question taking both her and Cora by surprise, as it belied her usual incurious nature.

"The white man and the two Indians saved our lives," said Cora, "We were besieged by the Hurons. Our guide was truly no friend of our Father's, I can't imagine why anyone would trust such a fierce looking savage. I certainly did not. We never would have gone with him if I had my way."

"But what's happening now?" asked Alice in exasperation with Cora's superior tone.

"Oh," said Cora, taken aback slightly by her normally calm sister's tone. "Duncan wants us to return back to town. But the white man—Nathaniel—says that the Huron will be coming back to us in greater numbers. Even now they are preparing for battle, he says. Nathaniel says we must go deeper into the wilderness and that our only hope of safety is reaching Father and his men."

Alice shuddered at the notion. "And the two Indians?"

"His brother and father," explained Cora.

Alice's mouth dropped open.

"Adopted," Cora said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Can you imagine being raised by red faces away from your own people?"

"The father looks angry," noted Alice.

"Hmm?" Cora seemed disinterested. "Heed him and the other Indian not. I trust this white man, and I feel certain his 'kin' will do as he says, if only for the handsome reward that will certainly be given to them upon our safe arrival to Fort Campbell."

Duncan walked back to the waiting women with anger still suffusing his already ruddy skin. "The nerve of these people!" he cursed. "Telling me how to mind my own affairs! As if I haven't served in the King' army for nigh on six years!"

"We shall do as he says," said Cora flatly. "You are the one who got us into this mess. He shall get us out."

With that, Cora flounced away from the Major and over to where Nathaniel now stood expectantly, his masculine stance radiating near palpable desire for her older sister. Duncan hissed in rage.

"Your sister is a…excitable woman," he said to Alice, his voice trembling.

"And beautiful too, is she not?" asked Alice in amusement, clearly seeing that Duncan's rage was in part derived from jealousy.

"You are her equal in every way," said Duncan, with renewed vigor as he looked down at the maiden. "If she is the sun, then you are the moon."

"I guess that makes you Uranus," said Alice, feeling wonderfully mirthful.

She left Duncan spluttering in confusion, unaware of the younger Indian who was laughing silently nearby. Nor was she concerned with whether her behavior was unladylike. For now, she had a reprieve from facing civilization once again. And that made her in a good humor indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

It did not take long for Alice's irreverent mood to pass. As the adrenaline of the ambush wore away, she soon found that the reality of being in the wilderness was not as liberating as she imagined. The rest of the group moved quite freely, even Cora, as she had always been wonderful at games and sports. She seemed full of energy and enthusiasm as she ambled beside Nathaniel and asked him endless questions about his life.

Alice, meanwhile, struggled near the rear in exhaustion. They were all on foot. Hours prior, she couldn't believe it when Uncas had set about the woods releasing all the horses. Out of her head, she ran up and grabbed his arms, shouting "But we need them!"

He had looked down at her impassively. His arms felt hard and immovable in her arms, but just as she was about to shrink away, she felt him relax and move just an imperceptible step closer to her. He smelled like pine and sweat and something else, something metallic. Blood, she realized, and she then stepped back in horror.

His eyes flashed with what seemed like pain for a second, and Alice had a strange sense of guilt—as if she had hurt him in some way. "I'm…I'm sorry…" she murmured. "Forgive me for laying my hands on you."

His dark eyes creased at the edges. "There is nothing to forgive."

Then, stepping just a hair closer again, he said, in a low voice as if trying not to spook her, "The horses will be too easy to track. Their hooves can be heard from miles away."

Alice felt very stupid. How could she not have realized that? "I…I am so-sorry," she said, stumbling over her words, alarmed that her childhood stutter was coming back to her in this embarrassing moment. He must think her a fool!

But when she glanced up from under her lashes, he seemed only a bit confused. She turned away to rejoin her sister when she felt the smallest graze of a finger on her hand. Then she thought she must have imagined it, for when she turned, he was already walking away.

That had been hours ago. Now, although she understood why the horses had been sacrificed, she still rued their loss. Her feet ached painfully, as though she was walking on glass, and she couldn't catch a deep breath due to how tight her stays were. Her hair had long since escaped its intricate pins, and now it hung in long loose waves down her back. But more than the exhaustion and the heat, she felt ashamed. She knew that she was holding the group up, that her frail physical state was putting them at greater risk with each passing moment. And, even more so, she knew it was her fault that Cora was her in this wilderness to begin with. Had it not been for Alice and what happened in London, then none of this would have happened. The thought was devastating to Alice, and it distracted her so that she didn't mark the large rock directly in front of her. Her foot grazed its sharp edge, and blood gushed immediately forth before Alice could cry out.

She was about to collapse on the ground, when she felt two strong arms gently setting her down. Even before she looked up, she knew it was Uncas. With alarm, she realized he was sitting beside her and reaching out for her foot. The idea was earth-shaking. A Indian touching her bare foot as she sat on the ground beside him? Her lower belly clenched in a way she never felt before.

"Oh!" she moaned. "I am sorry. Please go on, I will catch up in a moment."

He turned away from her and let out a whistle. She was about to speak again but he held up his hand. A low whistle came from the distance.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I let them know we are going to be a little delayed," he said, reaching for her foot again.

She pulled away sharply, nearly cutting her palms on the rocky floor as she did so. He clucked his tongue, misunderstanding her frenzied state, he said, "Don't worry. Your sister will be safe with my brother."

"You – you can't touch my foot," she said, as he yet again made another reach for her wounded foot. "It's improper!"

He laughed outright at that, and Alice's cheeks burned in shame.

"You are no gentleman to laugh in a lady's face!" she said, pulling herself upright and using the nearby tree to stand on her feet. The pressure on her injured heel caused a gasp of pain to emit from her lips. Uncas' face darkened and he stopped laughing.

"And you are a fool if you think false manners are worth more than your life," he said, "I must clean and bandage your foot or you could get an infection."

Alice whimpered in pain and defeat. Nor did she want to hold the group up anymore. She nodded slightly, and sank back down on the ground, ignoring his proffered hand. She crossed her arms and refused to meet his eyes as he started rooting in his pack for his supplies.

He seemed to find what he was looking for. He looked up at her face, hoping for a sign of permission or acknowledgment, but she only stared stonily out at the forest. From behind her hooded eyes, she could see a note of what appeared to be anger growing on his face. She fairly gasped when she felt his strong warm hands collect her small foot.

"I'm only going to touch your foot," he said gently, his voice proving he was not angry as she supposed. "I won't harm your honor. Though I do be a savage."

"I never called you that," she said quietly, and though he made no reply, she knew her words impacted him, because for a moment, she felt his firm hand flutter slightly.

"This might sting," he said gruffly. "It's medicine to clean the wound."

She twisted back a little involuntarily when the painful stinging assaulted her, but he held onto her foot with a gentle grasp and whispered something soothing in a language she didn't understand. Though she knew not the meaning of what he said, the intention behind them was clear, and she immediately relaxed. Her eyes were half shut, but she could tell he looked up in some surprise at her sudden surrender.

"Finished," he said, releasing her foot carefully to rest on a soft place on the ground.

"What do the words mean?" she asked, feeling emboldened by having survived such an unbelievable experience.

He seemed embarrassed, and began to pack up his supplies quickly. "Nothing. Just the language of my people."

"It sounded…beautiful," she said, and then she felt ashamed. "I am sorry for what I said earlier. I was being foolish. I have already slowed everyone down so much."

He shook his head powerfully. "No, miss, you have been very resilient. You're doing quite well."

She huffed in annoyance. "No, I am weak! I hate myself for being so slow and stupid. Would that I was more like Cora…"

She was going to continue when she felt his presence very close to her. His scent surrounded her. He was kneeling just a few feet from her face, arms outstretched to help her stand up. She took his hands gratefully and gingerly stood on her now bandaged foot. To her surprise, he did not let her go. She stood trembling, from both exertion and embarrassment, as he ran his thumbs firmly up and down her arms.

"The words…" He murmured. "I said, 'Hold still, little mouse.'"

"Mouse?" She said, frowning a little to find the endearment was not as romantic as she might have hoped.

He understood and smiled slightly, revealing a row of impossibly white teeth.

"In our culture, the mouse is honored for its quiet and whole-hearted spirit. The children hear stories of how the mouse is able to defeat even the most deadly of predators thanks to her courage and clever nature," he explained, his voice mesmerizing and still. "She is humble yet fierce…and her unassuming demeanor allows her to outsmart her enemies who do not credit her with any strength."

Alice smiled and blushed again, looking down at her feet. "Thank you," she whispered.

He let her go. She couldn't help but feel a chill go through her bones as he took his hands away.

"Come," he said, his tone no longer hushed. "This is no place to dawdle. We must find the others."

She nodded. Though tired and hurt and completely confused by the feelings invading her usually numb body, she felt stronger thanks to his words. She could go on. She could continue a while longer. She could prove people wrong. She could…prove Uncas right. She said his name again aloud in her head, repeating it over and over like a rosary. Good Lord, what was happening to her?


	5. Chapter 5

When night fell, the group finally had to stop, a fact which filled Alice with relief and horror all at once. The thought of a respite was heavenly, but she was terrified by the notion of spending the night outside in the dark. For some reason, she hadn't considered this reality throughout the day, being so focused on merely putting one foot in front of the other. Nathaniel said they would not even be able to light a fire.

"But surely, just a small fire wouldn't—" Alice began to argue.

Cora cut her off in annoyance. "Please ignore my sister, Nathaniel," she said. "She's nearly eighteen years and still afraid of the dark. She cries out from nightmares like a child."

For the first time since childhood, Alice had the urge to pull her sister's hair. Hard. Instead, she just looked at her hands in her lap, feeling sufficiently shamed once again in front of these men. In front of Uncas.

The older Indian, the one named Chingachgook, spoke for the first time. "I would not mock the dream-haver, Dark One," he said, in a deep, heavily accented voice. "Dreams can show us the way, if we know how to read them."

Cora scoffed. "Visions, you mean?"

Chingachgook raised his hands. "Perhaps. Is that impossible to believe?"

Cora laughed. "Indeed it is. I believe in reality—facts, science, things that can be proven."

Nathaniel looked amused. "I thought women didn't enjoy those kinds of pastimes. But then I guess you are not like most women?"

Cora looked flattered.

Alice rose quietly during this exchange. She walked quietly away from the party, feeling empty and angry all at once. Her nightmares had always been a source of contention between her and Cora, particularly as of late since they had to share a ship's berth. Night after night, Alice would wake and see figures in her room—the outlines of men, or demons, or even fireballs coming from the sky—and invariably she would scream herself hoarse as Cora shook her angrily. Truly, Cora had every right to find it annoying but to mention it front of these men? It deeply shamed her.

She wandered for a while, unheeding where she walked or how far. Her mind was too filled with thoughts of home—of Scotland, of London, of Father, of everything that had transpired to bring her here. When she finally came back to reality, she felt a sinking sensation as she realized she had no sense of where she was at all. The remaining twilight had almost evaporated, and now the woods were as dark and menacing as her own thoughts. She remembered the Huron and what Cora had said about being scalped and ravaged. The prospect nearly made her mind skitter away altogether.

Just as she was about to sink to the ground and cry pitifully, she heard a noise behind her. She whirled around as arms enveloped her. Gasping, she began pounding against the hard chest with her fists, trying and failing to wrench herself out of the tight hold.

"Shh, shh," said a voice, and Alice realized that both the sound and earthy smell was familiar. _Uncas_.

She stopped fighting and instead collapsed against him, her hands turning from fists and into claws that curled desperately into his shirt. "Oh, I was so lost," she cried.

She felt him smile even in the darkness. "No, little mouse," he said, "You are not so lost. You are barely 100 yards from camp."

She sighed in relief, though once again she had embarrassed herself before this man. Suddenly she realized she was the one prolonging the embrace—that she was the one clinging on to him and pressing her curves against his hard frame. Though she knew she should move away immediately, she didn't not want to let go of this comfort, deadly improper though it was.

He seemed to sense what she was thinking. The smile dropped from his face and his expression changed to something else entirely—something needing and primal and aching. Then, just as quickly, he began to untangle her fingers from his shirt, essentially pulling him away from her even as she remained rigid and unwilling. He looked down at her in what Alice presumed was disgust. Apologies and explanations battled on her lips, but in the end she settled on saying nothing at all. She went to her safe place in her mind and turned herself off.

"I will follow you back now," she said obediently and emptily. The least she could do was make less trouble for this man.

Though she kept her tone even and simple, it was clear that Uncas noted the change as the girl seemed to disappear before his very eyes, even as she stood there without moving. His dark eyes flashed with emotions she could not discern, but she cared not. Let her sleep. Let the night come. She cared not.


	6. Chapter 6

Alice did not know how long she had been asleep, but she knew something was wrong the second she opened her eyes. At first, she thought she was having one of her nightmares, but when the shadows didn't dissipate into nothingness, she knew what she was looking at was real. A hundred feet away there was a band of Huron moving through the night, well-armed and stealthily silent as they stalked their prey.

Without making a sound, Alice looked around in the dark. She saw that her sister was awake and laying flat beside Nathaniel in the tall grass, and that Duncan and Chingachgook were flanked on either side of the pair, bows raised and guns trained on the predators. But where was Uncas? She felt immediately bereft and terrified—had something happened to him?

Then, in the misty darkness, she saw his broad back and his dark hair shimmering in the half moonlight. Overcome with an urge to touch him, to ascertain he was real, to assure herself that this was no nightmare, she belly-crawled across the expanse towards his body. As she got closer, his head ticked her way.

In one aggressive motion, he grabbed her and wrapped a firm hand around her mouth. This shocked her, and she struggled against his force. Eyes narrowing, he quickly shoved her beneath him, pushing her into ground as he laid almost his whole body on top of hers, giving no thought to being gentle with her. The pressure nearly undid her. He felt huge and unstoppable and her mind filled with horrific images of the past. _No, no, no, no_ , she thought, _Not again, no no no nononononooooo_

As if aware of the turmoil going on within her, Uncas rearranged his musket in the grass soundlessly, but kept his hand wrapped around her mouth. He moved his weight so that he was supporting himself on his elbows, not fully on her tiny frame. As he did so, he whispered to her in a low calming tone, speaking in words she did not understand but knew to be his language. Her heart continued to beat wildly but with each word, she began to slowly return to the present. She fought against him, but with less fury and terror now, and then her movement stilled almost entirely, but not quite. Against his higher wishes, Uncas had to admit that the small, rhythmic motions she was making now were almost undoing him altogether, as she pressed and pressed her curves onto his chest, his belly, and below. Finally, before he became aroused, he forced her trembling legs between his strong ones and sunk his weight on her a little lower.

"Shh, shh," he said, pretending as though it was noise that was making her movements an issue. "Be still, little mouse."

The words seemed to have a magic effect on her. She no longer moved or fought at all, and for a long time, the pair lay like that in the grass, waiting for the Huron to move slowly past their camp. She was so still that Uncas would have thought she was asleep, but he could feel how charged and wakeful her entire body was. She seemed to soaking in every sensation and he had to admit that he was doing the same. He had not held a woman in a long time, and an English woman never. Her skin and hair felt different than a Delaware woman, softer and plumper. Instead of muscle, he felt nothing but curves beneath him, warm, feminine curves that smelled of rose and vanilla and the faint sweat from the day's exertions. He moaned in spite of himself as he remembered how she was bucking her bottom against his lower body.

Alice looked up at him in surprise, twisting her neck so that her gray-blue eyes were shining in the moonlight beneath him. Her gaze was questioning but when she saw his expression, he could tell she immediately understood. Even an innocent gentlewoman like her could not misunderstand such a look. He looked down in shame and was prepared to let go of his grasp, as she would be well within her rights as a lady to be horrified, especially if the stories he heard of English women and their prudishness were true. But Alice did not look horrified. Or prudish. And, although he could hardly believe it and later spent hours wondering if he imagined it, she raised her bottom once against him and nudged…no, rubbed herself against him, this time no doubt feeling his hardened cock, even through her many skirts.

He very nearly lost his mind when he heard Nathaniel standing up in the distance. "They have gone. You were right, Father," he said. "They would not enter the sacred burial place."

"Yes," said Chingachgook, "We have earned ourselves another reprieve. But for how long?"

Uncas lay motionless as Alice struggled out from underneath him, embarrassment shaking her to the core. What had she done? What had she done? She felt disgusted with herself. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. How could she?

Uncas looked up at her and smiled, but she nearly burst into tears as she looked away from him. She was unclean. She was certain to be damned. How could she feel these things? How could she do such things? They had been right about her all along. Oh, she wished she was someone else. How could she be so bad? Her mother in heaven would be shamed. Oh, my God. She should never see her mother again if she was sent to hell to be punished. How could she not be? How could she have…rubbed her body against him in that way? What came over her?

And so she continued in this vein of thought while everyone once again settled back into the camp for a few more hours of sleep. Uncas seemed incredibly troubled and kept trying to catch her eye, but she only continued to wring her hands and mutter wordlessly to herself, her mouth moving without a sound. Nathaniel shot a questioning glance to Cora who shrugged.

"She gets like this sometimes," she said. "People used to think she was mad…it's part of the reason we had to come here…But I will speak no more of it."

Nathaniel nodded carelessly. A mad sister would not keep him from falling for this dark fiery girl beside him. So Alice continued to speak silently to the night, the only witness a troubled warrior watching her with dark unreadable eyes, eyes that watched her long after she fell into an unhappy sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

They were on the move before it was daylight, sharing a small canteen of water and dried deer meat as they traveled. Alice had no appetite and only pretended to partake of the supplies when they were passed to her. She felt more in control this morning, and not as desperate and bleak as she felt the night before, but shame still ran through her. She could not meet Uncas's eyes and her hands shook when she thought of what he must think of her, how lowly he must think of her for behaving like a common strumpet.

As if sensing her mood, Uncas stayed a distance away from her, but even so, he ceaselessly watched her. He saw that she ate and drank nothing, and though it made him curse under his breath in Mohican, he said nothing to the others. He knew the last thing his mouse needed was a lecture from her domineering sister. _His_ mouse? He caught himself on the phrase with shock. He couldn't believe how he was thinking of this English girl. He saw with his own eyes that Nathaniel and Cora were forming their own romance, but he knew instinctively it was different for them. His brother was a white man and could court one of their kind without much censure, but no such reality was possible for Uncas and he knew it. Besides, he reasoned, the girl was clearly troubled beyond measure. She seemed in fact to hate him this morning.

So no, he thought, she was not his, not his at all…and yet, his eyes and heart stayed trained on her, his body flooding with pain whenever he saw a cloud of unhappiness pass her face. What was she thinking that was causing her so much grief? What had he done to her last night? He remembered how frightened she felt in his arms when he first threw himself on top of her, how she seemed to almost lose her mind in terror. What a way for him to behave. She probably thought she was about to be raped by a redman. He flushed at the thought. Of course, she didn't rub her body against him. She was senseless with fright. He desperately wanted to ask his father to tell him more about English girls, to explain to him why they were a breed apart and how one was supposed to talk to them. But he knew such a conversation would give him away, indeed he suspected that his father already could sense that his youngest son was awestruck with the 'Silver One' as Chingachgook had taken to calling her.

As the group headed onwards, once again, the pattern of the previous day came to pass. Nathaniel, Cora, and Duncan led the way, with Chingachgook not far behind. Alice struggled desperately, falling behind farther and farther with each passing yard. Uncas fell even further behind, following her but not desiring her to feel hurried or infantilized.

Finally, when the midday heat was at its worst, Alice began to falter to such a degree that Uncas feared for her immediate safety. She seemed in a daze, and he remembered that she had not eaten or drank since the paltry serving of deer jerky she ate the night before. With the sun so high and hot, and her clothes so heavy and impractical for the weather, he believed she could be suffering from heatstroke. Instantly, he cursed himself for being so stupid about allowing her to go without water, and for encouraging the growing distance between them in order to give her the sense of freedom he believed she desired.

Muttering under his breath, he moved at a breakneck pace to catch up with her, which was simple for him as she had slowed nearly to stopping. As he got closer, he could tell that she was not just physically exhausted, but mentally as well. When she looked past him with dazed gray eyes that seemed to neither recognize nor be aware of him, he knew for certain it was heatstroke.

He let out a whistle to the leading group, and heard its answering reply within the moment. He knew they would go on ahead, rather than halting their pace for the weak girl. He wondered briefly that Cora would be so trusting of a total stranger with her sister, but at the moment, he had bigger issues to face.

"Please," he said, in quiet tones to the confused girl who was now walking onwards in dizzy, circuitous steps, "Please stop now and rest. We will rest a while and have some water, yes?"

She kept walking past him, murmuring so quietly he could not hear. He followed behind her, afraid if he touched her it would only further harm her mental state. He handed her the buckskin of water, willing her to take it from his hands. She looked at it as if he was handing her a dead snake.

"I really can't stay and chat," she said, her accent thick and formal, "I told Cora I would be home for tea. Besides, I am not supposed to be talking to you."

"Please, Alice, it's me, Uncas," he said, being so bold as to use her first name, hoping it would bring her back to earth. "You're here with me in the mountains. We are going to find your Father. Do you remember me?"

"Oh, Father," she laughed gaily. "He would scream red-faced if he knew you were here. The whole town is aghast at your scandalous reputation. I won't be turned by your compliments, young lass though I am."

Uncas continued beside her desperately, gently reminding her where she was and who he was, but on every occasion she rebuffed him with strange remarks. When her eyes glassed over and she began quoting poetry, his heart sank. What had he done? Why had he allowed the foolish child to not drink water? How could he stop her and make her listen to reason?

At a loss, he finally grabbed the young woman's hand. It felt as though it were on fire. She whirled to face him and he feared his decision had further harmed her, but instead she just seemed confused.

"My head aches," she said, "My head aches and aches and it's a horrid room and everything is filthy and I am filthy there's bugs all over all over and he is tearing me apart –"

He released her hand and instead pulled her close to him, hoping his own cool skin would be a respite for her burning flesh. Aching with pain for her, he spoke the only words he knew how to in that moment, his own people's words. He told her it was alright, that she was safe, that he would protect her, that she wasn't filthy, but precious and beautiful and as clean and silver as the moonlight. He knew she did not understand the words, could not possibly understand his native tongue, but his words seemed to work a spell on her as they had before.

And when he held out the water to her and said, "Drink, little mouse," her eyes unclouded for the first time in the past hour.

"Yes, Uncas," she said, and he heaved a sigh of relief as she drank and drank and drank. Finally, he stopped her for fear she would overdo it. While he was glad she drank the water, he knew the next step would be difficult.

"Miss," he said, easing her down to the forest floor with one arm, "You have heatstroke. Do you understand?"

"Is that why I feel so poor? I think I am going to be ill," she said desperately holding her stomach. "And my head, it's pounding."

"It's the heat," he said, "You must take some of your clothes off, do you understand?"

She only moaned again and closed her eyes. "I am so tired, and it is so loud and bright. Let me sleep, Cora."

Finally, Uncas knew this could not continue. As she sagged against a tree, he began to undo her complicated dress, his large callused fingers fumbling with the buttons. Cursing under his breath, he raged at the impracticality of English fashion. What sensible woman would dress in this manner? As he pulled over her heavy gown, Alice seemed completely unaware of her surroundings, no longer muttering nonsense but staring into space. Uncas did not know which was more troubling, her mad ramblings or her surrender into this catatonic state. As he continued to undress her, his black eyes flashed with rage when he got down to her corset. No wonder the poor girl was so weak and in pain! He didn't know a warrior who could have walked even half the distance she did while being suffocated in such a manner. Not caring if he damaged it, he undid it as quickly as he could, and he could hear the small sigh of Alice made when it was finally untied.

She was down to nothing more than her thin shift, and Uncas dared not undress her further. Even as it was, he could almost make out her nubile body underneath, as the sweat made the white fabric hang suggestively off her body. Still, he knew this was not enough. Giving up all thoughts of propriety and realizing she would never forgive him for this, and that verily he could be charged with a crime when he met up with the redcoats again, he lifted her hot limp body into his arms. Knowing the terrain very well, he carried her a short distance to the water which he was glad was nearby. His people called it Elk Lake and he was never more glad to see its cold life-giving shores.

Without ceremony, he sat Alice down carefully and then he peeled off his shirt and pants. If she noticed his nakedness, she made no sign of it. He then lifted her up and carried straight into the cold water, nearly gasping at the sudden and painful chill. Alice meanwhile almost shot out of his arms, instantly alert and bewildered as the icy water soaked her through. She cried and struggled in his arms and began to claw wildly at his brown skin. Though in pain, Uncas held on tightly, as he feared desperately she would get free—of course, English girls can't swim, he thought, again wishing evil thoughts upon such a ridiculous society.

Pushing those thoughts away, he pulled Alice closer, hugging her body against his broad chest, and again he whispered to her in Mohican. She stopped struggling and merely shivered, her teeth chattering and her tiny body trembling a riot against his. She looked up at him with gray accusing eyes, but she seemed to realize the danger she was in, and clung to his body rather than clawing against it.

"It's almost over, little mouse," he said his mouth buried in her silvery wet hair. "Another moment. Just breathe."

She muttered something in his chest that he couldn't quite understand. He flinched down, worried that her rambling had returned. "What is it?" he asked, pushing strands of wet hair out of her delicate face.

"I said," she hissed, "It's damn cold!"

With that, he burst into laughter. His whole body shook as he almost collapsed with joy. She was going to be alright.

"What's so funny?" she pouted, shoving her face back into his chest, as if she could burrow inside of his equally cold body for warmth.

He kept laughing as he hauled her out of the water, feeling a deep relief as the icy water receded. His joy didn't last long, however, when he saw an enraged Cora standing on the banks.

"Alice!" the brunette screamed. "What is happening? What have you done to her, you savage? Has she not been brutalized enough? Get away from her, you beast! You have ruined her!"

Cora fairly leapt upon the trembling girl, wrapping a heavy blanket around her as she tried to pull Alice out of Uncas' arms. Bending down, he relinquished his charge, as Alice stood on her own two feet, her legs shaking like a newborn doe.

"What is happening here, son?" asked Chingachgook calmly, knowing Uncas too well to misjudge the situation. "Is she alright?"

"She had heatstroke," he explained, feeling angry that he was being treated like a common criminal by Cora, though he understood her passion. "She was senseless. Rambling. I couldn't get her to drink. I had to get her body temperature down. It was the only way."

Cora barely seemed to register his words, as she had turned to murmur to Alice, but Nathaniel and Chingachgook nodded in praise.

"You did good, brother," said Nathaniel. "Cora is wrong to speak to you as she did."

This seemed to get the eldest Munroe's attention. For a moment her face flashed with anger and pride, but then she seemed to give into to Nathaniel's opinion. She let Alice settle onto the ground and handed her more water. With restraint, she turned to the Indian she had insulted, speaking in low tones so as not to disturb her sister.

"Forgive me, Uncas," she said, "You must understand…I thought the worst when I saw her clothing discarded and torn back in the woods. And then you naked in the water with her…Her honor…Without it, she will never make a match. After what happened in London, there can be no more chances…"

Suddenly she stopped herself, realizing she was voicing private thoughts aloud due to the adrenaline still racing through her.

"Have you any other clothes she can wear?" asked Chingachgook, changing the subject. "She cannot wear that heavy gown in her condition."

Alice suddenly became aware of the conversation. "What do you mean? What shall I wear? Oh, where are my clothes?"

She looked down at herself and blushed a scarlet red, for the first time understanding exactly what Uncas had did…and what he had seen. Uncas ached for her when he saw her shame. He wished he could tell her that she had no reason to blush, that he had seen nothing, and that what he had seen had been pure. Instead, he realized his presence was a thorn to her.

"We should set up camp here for the night," said Uncas, and the other men agreed. "I will go see if I can catch any game for dinner. Where is the white solider?"

Nathaniel snorted. "He believed he should go on ahead alone. He thinks he can get to the Fort on his own and secure help for us."

Alice forgot her embarrassment and looked horrified. "Surely that is not safe!"

Cora shrugged. "We told him so. He would not listen. Come, sister, let's go find your dress. Perhaps we can cut some of the skirts out and make it more bearable."

Alice acquiesced, and Uncas turned slowly to walk the opposite way, his heart heavy despite the happy ending to the near tragedy. What did Cora mean 'what happened in London'? What was Alice murmuring about in her delusions? What had happened to his mouse before he found her?


	8. Chapter 8

Uncas had not yet returned by nightfall, so they chose to forgo a fire for safety's sake since there was nothing to cook. Instead, they had deer jerky again, along with a paltry serving of berries that Cora had located on the trek. Alice was wearing a much modified version of her pink dress—the sleeves and collar had been cut off, as well as the under skirts. She wore no bustle or stays, and her legs were bare save her small gray boots. She felt naked indeed, especially as her breasts were now very exposed. Cora assured her it was not improper and not uncommon in places such as Paris, but Alice felt like a strumpet indeed. Yet after what she had revealed today…her face burned at the memory. Still, she knew that Uncas had saved her life, and that is was her own foolish fault for exerting herself overmuch and refusing to eat or drink all because of her sore mood.

When dinner was over and Uncas had still not returned, the group settled down to sleep, with Chingachgook taking first watch. Though Alice was exhausted, she merely tossed and turned on the hard dirt, her thoughts turning black as she wondered if something had happened to Uncas. What if the Huron had…? She could not bear to finish the thought. She rued the way she had acted in the morning, refusing to meet his eye or acknowledge his kind presence. Though she knew her feelings to be very wrong, she could not help but admit to herself that she could think of nothing else but him. She remembered laying against his bare chest in her thin shift, knowing he must have been able to see—and feel—everything. But for once, instead of feeling shame, that only made her heart beat faster and a queer ache form in her belly.

Looking over at Chingachgook, who was now dozing, she slowly raised herself up without making a sound. She could not sleep until Uncas was back, and what if he was hurt or lost or…

Just as she was a yard deep into the woods, a firm brown hand grasped around her now bare arms.

"Where are you going, little one?" asked a familiar voice.

Her face broke out in joy. "Oh, Uncas!" she cried quietly. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his torso in a tight embrace. He stood still for a moment, clearly taken aback, but then he raised one warm hand to stroke her silky hair.

"You're back, you're back," she whispered in glee.

"Of course," he said, holding her away from him to look down at her face. "But where were you going? Did something happen to the others?"

She fell silent and began twisting her hands. "I—I wanted to try to find you," she confessed shakily.

If she thought he would have been flattered by such an admission, she was wrong. Instead, he shook her. "You what? You left camp on your own to find me in the night?"

She looked confused. "I—I'm sorry—I—

His grip around her became like a vice. She wanted to cry out in pain but her voice disappeared.

"Never, ever, ever _, ever_ let me hear you of doing something so stupid and selfish again!" He shook her again, and this time she could not help but whimper as she felt his grasp was nearly breaking her arms.

As she sobbed, he suddenly realized what he was doing. He let go of her and she sank to the ground, tears racking her frame. Uncas raised his large hands to his face, feeling awful as he remembered himself and how tiny she was in his arms. He threw himself down onto the ground beside her and tried to pull her into his lap.

"No—no—no—" Her small white hands pushed against his broad chest, "No. Please don't. I'm sorry, please don't. Let me go away. I am sorry."

"What are you sorry for? I am the one who should be sorry! I deserve to be lashed for being so rough with you," he said, cursing himself, as he tried once to reach for the crying girl.

She pushed him away again.

"I am crowding you…I am always weighing you down…I got you in trouble today. And now I follow you when you want to be alone," she choked, her hands twisting once again.

That was enough for him. "No more," he said, once again forcefully grabbing her but this time with caution and tenderness. He pulled her body until his lap and held her tightly until she tired herself out with twisting and turning to no avail.

When she quieted a bit, he reached down and tipped her chin up to meet his. "I am glad for you to follow me," he said lowly, his thumb stroking her plump bottom lip. "Gladder than reason ought to dictate."

She looked bewildered. "But then why did you get so angry?"

In exasperation, he unleashed the reasons why: That it was dark, there were killers hunting for her, she did not know the terrain, she had no protection, she wasn't dressed properly, she was still suffering from ill health, she was—

Then he realized her face was still shrouded in confusion. He realized with a jolt he had not been speaking English.

He laughed. "Ah, mouse," he said, "I don't why it is natural for me to speak to you in my language."

"I like it," she whispered, reaching up to intertwine his hand in hers. "But I have no idea what you said."

He considered repeating it all, but then settled for one word: "Dangerous."

"Dangerous," she repeated, slowly, as if trying to understand why this had thrown him into a rage.

He began to trace that tempting lower lip again. "If something were to happen to you…while you were looking for me, no less…" Words failed him.

She nodded slowly.

"You must be more careful," he admonished, seriousness returning to his voice. "You must promise me that."

"Yes," she said quickly, eager for his playful mood to return.

"You must, Silver One," he said, using his father's name for her. "Do you understand? Truly? You must do as I say. You must believe it is for the best, whether it is staying in camp, or drinking water—

"Or removing my clothing?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips, emboldened by the darkness and the pure sensual pleasure of being wrapped in Uncas's big arms.

Now it was his turn to blush. "I saw nothing," he assured her, "I remembered your honor every moment."

Alice stilled at the word 'honor' and the smile disappeared.

"Something amiss?" he asked, worriedly, tugging slightly on her wavy locks.

"I'm tired," she said, and as she said the words, she realized it was not a lie.

"Of course!" he clucked his tongue. "How foolish of me. After such a day, you must need rest."

She nodded, but made no move to leave his lap.

He grinned. "Shall I carry you back?"

"Nayyy," she intoned, her body feeling like liquid in his arms. "I would stay here."

Now he knew she was out of her head with exhaustion. "Your sister almost had me hung once today," he chuckled, rising carefully without disturbing her in his arms. "I will carry you back."

He wondered how it was that she so trusted him that she fell asleep in his arms in the short minute it took to return to the others. He hated to relinquish her body on the ground, and the bereft moan she made in her sleep let him know she felt the same. Though it didn't feel adequate, he offered the only comfort he could instead of his body—he tucked his blanket around her and gently kissed her fingertips before walking away.

He collapsed onto the ground as well, but not before meeting his father's half-open eyes. Uncas opened his mouth to speak but found words failed him. Chingachgook looked into the distance.


	9. Chapter 9

Alice slept easily that night, despite the hard ground and the loud screeching of bugs that seemed to continue unabated throughout the night. She never heard such noise in her life—between the bugs, the owls, and the other creatures she knew not how to identify, she thought the forest was louder than London itself.

Strange, then, that when she met Uncas' eyes, that she felt nothing but a deep abiding calm. The noise of the world seemed to disappear altogether, a rushing sound filling her ears as though she were holding a seashell to her ears at Brighton Beach.

"Good morning," he said to her, as he handed her a cup of tea, and he whispered a small phrase in Mohican to her that she knew to be his term of endearment for her. Cora seemed not to mark it, and Alice felt a thrill, not only at that he would say such words to her, but that it was their intimate secret.

Her eyes shone with emotion as she thanked him for the cuppa, allowing her soft fingers to linger just slightly around his dark callused ones.

The private joy of the morning was soon disrupted however, as Nathaniel returned from a pocket of thick trees with a cloud of fury on his face.

"What is the matter?" asked Alice to Cora, who seemed to have knowledge of Nathaniel's mind better than even his father and brother.

"I know not," hissed Cora, shoving Alice out of the way as she walked quickly to the strange white man.

Surprisingly, he seemed little interested in her beautiful sister. "Father! Brother!" He called out. "Come!"

Chingachgook immediately stood and grabbed his bow and arrow. Uncas rose as well, but not before looking back at Alice with a small warning in his eye, a warning that almost seemed to say: "Stay."

Did he think she wander off again? She huffed internally. She was no fool. Though, of course, she reasoned, her behavior up to this point had not proven so.

The three men went back into the dark woods together. Cora continued pacing up and down the banks, shooting complaints to Alice as they came to her head.

"Why do you smile so, stupid girl? Are you mad?..."What can they be doing out there?...I won't wait a minute longer, I shall know what they are speaking of! It concerns us no doubt!...How can Nathaniel expect us to keep still like schoolchildren? I won't abide it!"

Alice felt a shock of loyalty go through her. Cora meant what she said. She would not wait much longer without seeking out Nathaniel. But that was the difference. Alice would wait as long as Uncas asked her to, and even without speaking aloud, she knew he had asked her to. So she would wait quietly, no matter how long it took. She would wait.

But even as she was thinking this, noise came from the trees as the three men reentered the clearing. Alice tried to meet Uncas's eyes, but she found them to be clouded over with an emotion she could not quite define—Rage? Ferocity? No, she thought with a sudden cold feeling: Murderousness. The icy feeling kept her pinned to the ground, her hands still clasping her now cold cup of tea.

Cora, meanwhile, had her fingers interlaced on Nathaniel's bicep as she shook him angrily. "What has happened?" she cried out. "What has happened?"

"A warning," said Nathaniel, prying her fingers loose none too gently. "A warning."

"What do you mean?" asked Cora, her eyes flashing. "From the Huron?"

"Yes," said Chingachgook. "We have not escaped them. They have been following us for many miles."

"Then why have they not attacked?" asked Cora. "Surely we are outnumbered?"

Nathaniel scoffed at that. "Outnumbered? They are the bear and we are the rabbit. We are defenseless prey in their iron jaws."

"But then why—

"We know not," said Chingachgook, cutting her off. "We know not why they watch and wait like the spider in his web. But they are doing so, most assuredly."

A chill went through Alice's bones. "Even now, they are watching?" she asked, directing her question to Uncas.

He spoke not, but tipped his chin down in a barely noticeable nod.

"Aye," said Nathaniel, "Or they are very close."

"How do you know?" Cora asked. "How can this be so? It defies reason. Why would they not just attack us and take my sister and I for ransom?"

"Ransom?" laughed Nathaniel. "They desire no gold from the white man! They want blood, blood from your Father and his line. And they shall not rest until they have it."

At that remark, Uncas hissed in anger at his brother, but Nathaniel continued with reckless abandon.

He continued, "Your father has murdered Magua's family, his wife and children, along with half of their tribe. He wants not a farthing from the killer you call Father. He wants to rain down vengeance upon him—starting with you two."

Cora went pale at this, and shrank down the ground. "What are you speaking of? What infamy do you speak? This cannot be true!" she cried, "My father is a noble man. He is no killer. How dare you speak such slander to me?"

"It is God's truth, Miss Munroe," said Nathaniel, returning to her formal address. "And I would dare speak it to him as well as you. Did you not wonder why Magua went to such lengths to attack the redcoats? It was not merely for a couple of pretty English women. Your vanity is making you blind to reason!"

Cora flushed with rage.

Still Nathaniel raged on. "And be assured the Huron are not far, the warning is writ large for us to see-"

Chingachgook raised a hand to stop his son, but he blundered on.

"-The dismembered corpse of Major Duncan now litters the woods a mere distance away. The ground is verily painted in his blood."

Alice felt faint.

Uncas now stopped his brother with a sharp guttural Mohican phrase.

Nathaniel seemed to come to himself, and looked down at the ground in perfect silence.

Cora too was finally silenced, her mouth an "O" as she stared at these messengers of doom in disbelief.

For her part, Alice shut her eyes and sank her head in her hands. Poor Duncan. He was an annoyance at times, surely, but he died for their protection, and he was nothing less than a hero.

"Are you certain it is him?" Cora finally asked.

"Yes, surely," said Chingachgook. "They wanted us to know it was him…"

"They made sure of it. There was no doubt…and no doubt of the torture he suffered before his end," said Nathaniel, clearly about to continue with more gory details when stilled again by a rough noise from his brother.

"Oh, the dear, sweet fool," said Cora. "Why did he go off on his own?"

"What does all this mean?" asked Alice, this time directing her question to Chingachgook, since Uncas was angrily packing up their camp in swift movements. "Are they merely trying to torment us before they finally murder us as well?"

Chingachgook looked weighed down. "I don't know, Little Silver One," he said, "It is not our way. This behavior…it is not a custom or a war tactic we use. It is not our way."

"He's sick, that's all," cursed Cora in a flash of irritation, "This Magua. He is deranged. He wrongly believes our Father has harmed his people in some way, and now he plays this devilish game to make us scared and weak."

Alice asked, so quietly she barely heard herself, "Uncas, is it true about Father? Did he really kill those people?"

Cora looked down at her in rage for speaking out of turn. "Do not ask that man about our Father's character! You are truly a disappointment! Again and again, you prove yourself so."

Alice ignored her and waited quietly for Uncas to finish tying his pack. He looked down at the quiet blonde.

"Yes," he said.

His eyes looked pained and cautious, as though he was not sure what effect his words would have—if they would enrage her, shatter her, or worst of all, drive an eternal wedge between them.

But Alice seemed to experience no change at all. "Yes," she repeated, slowly. "Yes."

Instead, she evaporated, retreating into herself with this new information, deep into herself, into the part of her mind that was sacred and safe and untouchable. She began to hum tunelessly.

"What shall we do?" asked Cora, suddenly realizing that her Father's character was the least of her worries. "How shall we continue? How can we reach safety?"

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "It has already been decided. There is no other way but one."

"What is that?"

"We must separate."

"Separate!" cried Cora, her hands going to her neck in alarm. "Why ever for? There is strength in numbers, aye?"

"Not on this occasion," said Nathaniel, "If we separate, it will be more arduous for them to track all of us. This means that some of us might be able to reach safety…reach safety and send back help for the others."

"But that is exactly what Duncan tried to do to no avail!" pointed out Cora. "He could not make it to the Fort! It is not wise, surely?"

"We are no longer heading there," replied Chingachgook. "You are correct, it is not wise. It is too long a distance and too uncertain a terrain, especially with Magua following our every move."

"Then wherever will we go?" Cora gasped. "If not to our Father, where shall we go?"

"To our people," said Chingachgook.

"Your people?" wondered Cora in shock.

"Our camp is closer than the fort," said Nathaniel. "If we can make it there, we will have ready men who will wage war to protect us and ours. And perhaps our change of course will confuse the Huron, and earn us at least a small respite."

"We shall separate and take different paths. They will figure it out eventually, but hopefully we can gain a few miles on them," finished Chingachgook.

"But—

"This is the only way," said the older Indian man, with anger growing in his voice. "Collect your things. Nathaniel and I will accompany you. My other son will take your sister."

At this Cora gasped louder than she had the whole morning, looking down at her sister who was still humming with eyes closed. "What!? You cannot be serious! Without a chaperone? Her reputation!"

At that Nathaniel barked with laughter. "You little dustbrain," he scoffed. "Chaperone! Reputation? If we do not do this, she will have not have a scalp on her head…and I assure her reputation will be removed as well!"

Cora broke into a sob and reached down to grab her sister. Alice continued to keep her eyes shut but absent mindedly patted Cora's back. Uncas looked beyond the scene stoically, his expression betraying nothing as he stared intently into the forest.

"Alice, do you listen? Do you heed?" she cried. "Doom is upon us! They will break us apart. I may not lay eyes on you again, dear sister!"

Alice hummed softly, stroking Cora's dark hair.

"I cannot leave her like this," cried Cora, even as Nathaniel was roughly pulling her away.

"We must go," said Chingachgook.

"You don't understand," shouted Cora. "She is not well! Before we came here…she was in a convent…she was nearly mad. We only brought her out because they were mistreating her…she is not well, I say, she is not well! My father was going to have her in asylum here as soon as we were able to find a suitable place! Do you hear? She is not well!"

Uncas's dark eyes flickered and flickered during this confession, his face as changing and unknowable as the tides as the muscles in jaw jumped wildly. Yet within a mere moment, the stoic mask of the warrior returned.

"Lower your voice! Lower your voice, damn girl!" hissed Nathaniel, grabbing her by the shoulders roughly. "You will kill her with your hysteria before her madness."

Chingachgook said calmly and simply, "My son will care for her. He will keep her safe with his very life."

"Yes," said Nathaniel, fairly dragging Cora away from Alice by her hair. "You must calm yourself! This is the only way! This is the only way, I say! If you want her to have any chance of life, this is the way!"

"My sister—my sister! Sister!"

With that, Nathaniel clamped a firm hand around Cora's mouth, pulling her under his arms as he strode through the clearing. Uncas nodded to him as he did so.

"Goodbye, brother," Nathaniel said, looking over his shoulder. "I will pray to the Gods for your well-being and that we meet again safely in this life."

Uncas grunted.

"My son," said Chingachgook, sharing one deep look with his blood. Then, he turned and followed the struggling Cora and her captor.

Uncas looked down at a humming Alice and said nothing.

There was nothing left to say.


	10. Chapter 10

Twilight came upon the forest the way it always did, slowly and then all at once. Alice felt as though she had been walking for centuries. Her head ached painfully, and her stomach felt empty and nauseous. Even to her own ears, her breath sounded frightening. A death-rattle, she thought. This is not breathing. This is dying.

Noting her exhaustion, Uncas felt a pang of guilt. Indeed, he had been noticing her exhaustion for hours, the way she stumbled and tripped in her impractical slippers, the way her eyes seemed dazed and glassy even as he tried to speak soothing words to her. She moved like a ghost, one foot after another, not seeming to mind where she went or why. Uncas had the sensation that she was following him blindly, that she was following him as a sheep would follow a shepherd, even to the altar itself.

Despite this, he knew they could not stop yet. Since they had left the clearing, his only purpose had been to move as quickly and quietly as he could. He was thankful for how gentle Alice's footfall was. Though she was not as silent as he, a trained hunter from infancy, she had a delicate step that was no doubt the result of years of dance lessons and quiet nights in carpeted parlors.

But now as night was falling, he knew it was nearly time to stop.

"There is a place we can stop up ahead," said Uncas, moving closely behind Alice and speaking lowly. "I know it well. It is just a few miles more."

Alice's face crumpled.

"A few miles?"

"Is that possible for you?" he asked, realizing he was being a cruel taskmaster.

"Certa-certainly," she said panting, not wanting to slow him down any further.

He put his hands on her smooth bare shoulders and halted her. "Nay, nay," he breathed. "Come. Come to me."

She turned to him questioningly. Without a word, he swiftly lifted her slight body into his arms, noting that she felt lighter than she had even the night before. Alice made a small cry as he fixed her in his embrace, and for a second, he thought she might bolt. Instead, she shook for a minute, and then settled, resting her soft hair against his chest.

"I will take you there," he said simply. "Rest, now. Rest, mouse."

She merely panted in response, her breath uneven and heavy. She had truly pushed herself as far as she could, he said, feeling worry and pride wash through him simultaneously. What a strange girl she was, mysterious and unreadable in so many ways. He remembered what her sister had said about her, and a frown creased his black brows. Throughout the day, the words have surfaced his mind, and images as well—images of a loud, dirty city, a city filled with whites and their evil ways, a land where Alice was adrift and mistreated and alone. The picture of this beautiful girl as an abused prisoner in a convent filled him with rage. How he loathed her father! What man would treat his own kin this way? How could he lock her away from the world and her family when it was so clear that what the girl needed was tenderness and nothing more?

"What are you thinking?" asked Alice, surprising him with the first question she had asked him in hours.

He tried to erase his frown. "Nothing of import," he assured her, but even to his ears, his tone sounded artificial.

"Please tell me," she said, anxiety washing her face. "I desire to know if something is wrong. Please do not protect my feelings."

"It's nothing, Little Silver One," he said, and then realizing she was afraid, said, "There is no one tracking us as far as I can tell. We are safe."

"Oh…" She said in confusion. "That's not what I meant. I wanted to know if I have done something to upset you."

He looked down at her in bewilderment. "Upset me?"

"Yes."

"Your life is in danger and you are worried if you upset me?" he asked, unable to hide a smile at that.

"I care not for my life," she said airily.

Her careless manner incensed him. He stopped walking abruptly, and pushed her roughly out of his arms.

"What is the matter?" she asked, worry darkening her eyes. "I have upset you! I knew it."

"Don't say that, do you hear? Don't you ever say that!" he said. "What a cruel remark to make!"

"Cruel?" she cried, tears escaping down her flushed cheeks. "What cruelty have I committed to you? Surely I would never do so intentionally!"

"Ah, Alice," he said, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears. "No, you are not intentionally cruel. You never could be so, I am sure. But please do not say that you care not for your life. Do not ever say that. Or think that. Do you heed?"

She nodded slowly, tears still streaming down, her body slack and soft from the exhaustion of the day.

He collected her fully into his arms again, easily taking on her weight.

"I cannot bear to think of such a world without you in it," he said, breathing his words into her silver blonde hair. "So please do not say these things. I think of nothing now but your life and how to keep you safe."

She looked up at him and smiled, understanding dawning on her face even as the tears still shone there. "I am sorry, Uncas," she intoned. "Forgive me."

Without realizing what he was doing, Uncas instinctively leaned down to her and collected the last of her tears in his mouth, kissing and licking away the salty liquid with a patient animal-like intention. When he realized what he was doing, he pulled away in alarm, expecting the English girl to be horrified. Instead, she looked like someone who had just seen the ocean for the first time—awed and moved beyond reason or expression.


	11. Chapter 11

Though he knew that Alice longed for a fire, Uncas did not dare light one. He had been exceedingly careful all day to cover their tracks as much as possible—no easy feat with Alice stumbling so often, and with her scent so strong and foreign. But then, he realized, it was possibly only him that smelled her everywhere, her rose-kissed limbs leaving perfume hanging on him long after he released her from his arms.

Instead of a fire, he made a small comfortable bed for her in a pile of new grass. They were surrounded by thick shrubs and tall oaks on either side, and though it gave a sense of security, Uncas also knew it offered plenty of hiding places for any trackers. Alice seemed insensible of the danger, however, and seemed to almost be enjoying herself when he handed her a piece of jerky.

"You're in high spirits again," he said. "Most young women would be devastated after such a day."

She gave him a wry smile.

"What?" he asked.

"I've always been told that—how I am not like most young women," she sighed, "I can never figure whether it is censure or praise, or both."

"I would never censure you," he said, adding with a smile. "Unless you were disobeying me."

She giggled. "Aye, I learned my lesson about that. My arms are still sore from the shaking you gave me yesterday."

"Are they truly?" he asked, his eyes brimming with self-loathing.

"Oh," she cried, seeing his wounded expression. "Only a wee bit. I am glad of the pain in any event. It has brought me pleasure with every twinge."

"Why so?" he questioned, still looking horrified.

"Because," she replied simply. "It reminds me of last night. Of how happy I was to see you, how happy I was to be in your arms and hear that I was not a burden to you."

"Oh, dear girl," he smiled. "I can remind you of that whenever you wish. You are no more burden to me than the moon is to the night."

She sighed happily, finishing the deer meat and leaning her head down on the ground. Though it was warm, Uncas had laid several buffalo skins on the forest floor, making her a soft nest that she thought rivaled her own feather bed in London. Well, not quite, she corrected herself, but being with Uncas was better than any English luxury.

Uncas smiled at the obvious sensual pleasure she was taking in her bed. Then, she did something that shocked him beyond measure.

She raised up on her elbows and looked at him expectantly.

"What is it, little one?" he asked seriously, though it was impossible for him to miss the desiring look in her eyes.

She looked tongue-tied, then asked: "How can you sleep sitting up?"

"I do so often," he said, blushing slightly. "Besides, I will not sleep. I will keep watch."

"All night?" she asked in shock.

"Many nights I have gone without sleep while in battle or on a hunt," he said easily, amazed at the lustful look that was still shining in her eyes, "These things are no matter when you are physically prepared."

She looked rebuffed. "Oh," she nodded, "I see."

He was amused. "Tell me your thoughts."

Now she flushed. "I daren't."

He could see she was too well-bred and too stifled by her upbringing to speak the need that was clearly in her eyes.

"Do you want me to lay near you till you fall asleep?" he asked, wanting to ease her discomfort. "The night is no doubt frightening for someone used to sleeping indoors."

She looked relieved. "Yes…y—yes. It is frightening."

He stood from his position and slowly ambled over to her nest of grass and blankets.

She sat upright, uncertain of what to do next. He could see her heart was racing inside her chest, making her round breasts heave up and down rhythmically. The image made his cock twitch. She was so soft…so un-muscled and feminine…as if she had been built for pleasure and nothing more.

His expression went from playful to demanding almost immediately, and she noted the change with some alarm.

"I—I don't know—I never," she began to stammer.

The sight of him broad and dark before her was at once intimidating and arousing. She had never had such feelings before, and she felt nearly wild with desire. She wanted him to remove his dark blue shirt and let her roam her small hands across his big chest. She wanted him to lay his body on top of hers again, like the night in the tall grass, the night when she could feel his thick manhood pressing against with intense need.

His eyes gentled.

"I know," he said, and carefully he laid her back down on the buffalo skins, loving the warm trembling expression she gave him. She reverberated pure trust and surrender, a fact he still could not conceive. Why would such an English lady allow an Indian to touch her? Was she truly mad? Guilt came over him. He began to pull away.

"No!" she cried out, almost in anger. "No, no, no!"

And before he knew it, the timid English mouse had wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down for a deep kiss, her full lips smashing against his with a fiery heat that he would never have expected. She tasted salty, like waves, and though he could tell she was unaccustomed to kissing, she seemed to giving over to him entirely, letting him open her mouth with his and massage her sweet pink tongue roughly.

He felt that he was erect against her leg, and he knew that she could not miss it, as this time she was wearing just one thin skirt. He wondered if she knew what it meant—if she knew anything about what a man and woman did together at all.

He pulled away from her swollen lips, no simple matter as her hands were still clutched around his neck and as she emitted a forlorn moan that nearly made him lose his control entirely.

"Alice, Alice," he said, trying to catch his breath, "Please stop a moment."

She released her hands from his neck, but instead of laying them by her side, she pushed them up underneath his shirt, letting her warm hands travel across his chest. Then she raised up on her elbows again and began snuggling his neck, her mouth humming along as she left a trail of kisses up and down on his brown skin.

He moaned and spoke warning words to her in Mohican. He wanted to rip off her dress and plunder her immediately, to hold her trembling wanting body still underneath him while he unleashed the harsh desire that was pulling him taut as a bow. But something stopped him. His father had told him of English ways—of how their women knew nothing of coupling, or childbirth, of how maidens were cast out of society for something as simple as holding hands. He feared what would happen if he took Alice's innocence, that she would never forgive him, or worse, that it would send her spiraling into the hole of madness that seemed to be buried in her core. So even as he felt desire stronger than he had ever experienced in his life, he made no move to caress the Little Silver One, instead just letting himself enjoy the undeniable pleasure of her plump lips and pliant hands exploring him all over.

Finally, when she realized he was holding still and making no movements in response, she flung herself back down on the ground. She turned her head away and laid her arms across her face, rolling onto her right side as Uncas struggled to keep his balance on top of her.

"Go, go," she muttered through her cloaked mouth. "Why don't you go?"

Regret clouded his face. He removed himself from her body, but he knelt beside her quietly. He wished to speak to her but he did not think she was ready to listen. He touched her hair briefly and she yanked her body away in response. Understanding her desire to be left alone, he got up and returned to his spot by the oak tree. For many long minutes, he quietly let her sob, knowing she would soon exhaust herself into sleep.

Eventually, she did so, though it took him much longer than he hoped, and it took much more willpower than he would have liked to keep him motionless at the base of the tree.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day Alice seemed intent on pretending that nothing untoward had happened the night before. In fact, she seemed preternaturallybright and in high spirits, chattering aimlessly about London society as the pair walked through the woods. She talked of balls, and of marble baths filled with steaming hot water, and of cathedral ceilings that soared hundreds of feet in the air. She spoke of silk gowns and tables laden high with truffles, rich cheeses, and fruits. She boasted of crystal goblets filled with something called "Champagne," and of the many handsome and wealthy gentlemen who would dance with her until her head spun.

Although her words spoke of beauty and elegance, the overall effect made the Indian ill. Her tone was coquettish and high-pitched, unlike her normally low and melodious voice. He could tell that she was play-acting—that she was desperately trying to regain her footing from the night before, to remind herself of who she once was and of the world that existed beyond the wild nature around her. To remind herself of a world where he did not exist, he thought coldly.

Finally, when Uncas could take the senseless prattling no more, he suggested a rest beside a small stream. Moving away from her, he reached down into the cool water and ran the liquid over his face. Stripping off his shirt on an impulse, as if part of him desired to wash off the unpleasantness of the day, he splashed the earthy stream water over his glistening brown skin. When he turned around again, Alice was sitting on a pile of dead leaves facing away from him. She was silent for the first time in hours.

"Will we arrive at your camp soon?" she asked finally, watching himself as he laid back in the sun and let the rays dry his chest.

He breathed a long sigh. "Yes, soon," he replied, his body nearly sagging with exhaustion. He had enjoyed little sleep in days, and it finally seemed to be affecting him. Or perhaps it was encountering this new side of Alice, this side that reflected the English girls he had seen walking about in the city, the spoiled, artificial girls that looked at him with a mixture of horror, disdain, and thinly veiled curiosity.

She paused, then asked, "When we reach there…when we make it to your people…what will happen then?"

He looked up and watched her with dark eyes. She gazed down at her hands.

"What do you mean?" he asked, resisting the almost overwhelming urge he had to tack on 'little one.' Though he was irritated with her this morning, his frustration was fading as he watched her now, so clearly lost and vulnerable, in a situation for which her breeding never prepared her.

She looked up briefly, as if she felt the lack of the endearment the same as he did. "What will happen to me then?"

He understood. "I imagine your sister will be there. There will be a party to escort you to your Father, or perhaps we can get word for him to come meet—

"No," she interrupted, almost in exasperation. "What I meant was…what will happen to you?"

Now he did not understand at all. "I…I am not sure what you mean…miss."

She frowned. "Will you be rejoining your wife and children? Have…have you a wife and children?" she asked baldly, as if deciding once and for all to do away with pretense.

A smile broke on his face. "Is that what has been bothering you all day?" he laughed. "You think I turned you down last night because I belong to another?"

Her face flushed scarlet. She began picking at a scratch on her arm, something he had noticed her doing for many hours now.

"Stop doing that," he said, rising tension in his voice. He had already told her numerous to leave the wound be. "Let it heal."

She turned her gaze away and continued poking and picking at the angry-looking mark.

"I said, stop doing that," he repeated. Damn this girl! She seemed bound and determined to bring harm to herself.

"I will do as I please," she retorted. "You are not my lord."

"That is damn certain!" he hissed, reaching over and forcibly removing her fingers from the scar. "No woman of mine would behave in this petulant manner."

She glowered and yanked her fingers back. "I am not your woman," she said, smiling with an irritating cheerfulness and returning to scratching the scar, harder now and with an almost devilish pleasure.

"Oh no?" he asked, "Oh no? We shall see about that."

He wrenched her arms down to her sides and pushed her down to the ground, overcoming her with ease as he straddled his muscular legs on either side of her plump flailing ones. A growl coming out of him that he barely registered as his own, he used one hand to pin her arms above her head, and the other to roll her over so that she now was belly-first in the grass. She fought terrifically, crying out in confusion and cursing him as she demanded to be released.

Then, Uncas did something that took him by complete surprise. He shoved her pink dress up above her waist, revealing nothing but her sheer silk chemise. He moaned heavily at the sight of her round gyrating bottom, and then, without warning, he took his right hand and rained down one, two, three, four, five heavy blows on her soft bottom. Through the translucent chemise, he could see that her white skin was becoming pink.

He paused for a short beat, but then feeling the growing need between his legs, he decided he was not finished with his task. He gave her five more hard slaps, speaking roughly to her in Mohican to her as he did so. At first when he spanked her, she jolted in shock, but as he continued, she stilled and merely mewed piteously. By the time he finished, he was pleased to find that she had stopped her complaints and even seemed to be raising her hips, ever so slightly, as if she was offering herself up obediently for his discipline.

When he finished, his hand was smarting, and with a flush of shame and regret, he realized her sweet skin probably felt indescribably worse. He immediately pulled her dress down and leapt off her. As he released her from between his legs, he sank into the earth soundlessly, in silent shock at what he had just done. For a moment, she laid there in the dirt, trembling, and then she rolled over to her side, facing him. Her beautiful porcelain skin was tear-streaked, and she turned her big gray eyes up to him wordlessly.

"Oh," he groaned, wanting to reach out and embrace her but knowing his touch would be an affront to her. "Did I harm you? Did I greatly harm you?"

His dark eyes searched her face for some sort of guide, some sort of map that would help him to figure out how to rectify the situation. But instead of rage or disgust, he found that her face looked almost calm. For a second, he fearfully wondered if she was going to enter one of her wordless dazed moods, but then he realized her eyes were alert and aware…and absolving.

"I am not harmed," she exhaled, pushing herself to a seated position, a small alarm of pain clouding her face as she sat on her sore bottom. "Ohh…Not much."

He blinked up at her in disbelief. Her behavior was almost more shocking than his. She was not angry with him? He could make no sense of this.

She stood shakily and began brushing leaves from her dress.

He continued to merely stare at her in bewilderment.

"Uncas?" she said, quietly arranging her wavy hair out of her face.

"Yes?" he asked hoarsely.

"I have behaved very badly this morning. I was…embarrassed…angry you turned me away last night," she confessed. "I wanted to harm you by pretending I missed London, by pretending to be someone else entirely."

At this he rose and gently folded her hands in his. Looking down at her, he felt himself brimming with a million words he wanted to say to her. He wanted to tell her that he desired her more than any other woman on earth, that it was only his fierce devotion to her that prevented him from ravaging her soft lustful body. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry he spanked her, sorry he was rough when he ought to be tender. Sorry that he did not the ways of her wealthy lily-white suitors but only the ways of his own untamed heart.

But he said none of these things.

Instead, he released her hands and said gruffly, "Come."

And he led the delicate English girl past the stream, noticing with arousal and amusement how one small hand went to rub her derriere when she thought he wasn't looking.


	13. Chapter 13

Many miles away, Cora was panting with exertion, rivulets of sweat running down her back. It had been nearly a week since she had left The New Heritage Inn, nearly a week since she had been safe, and indoors, and certain of her future. And yet—she had never felt lovelier in her entire life.

She knew it was mad to feel so, mad to feel as though a candle had been lit inside her, a candle that was bright enough to burn down the entire world. As she tromped through the forest behind Nathaniel's lean back, she felt she was entirely and perfectly where she was meant to be.

All those things she had used her body for over the years-pouring tea, writing letters, dancing the minuet, walking sedately through Hyde Park-all these things seemed to now be the actions of a parakeet fluffing its feathers inside of its gilded cage. But now the gates were open and she was flying deliriously through a wide expansive sky.

Chingachgook, who was walking alongside her while Nathaniel cut a path, turned towards her and announced: "You are happy, Dark One."

Cora's hazel eyes shined. "Happy…happy, yes. But what a small word for such a large feeling."

"Are you not fearful of the Huron? Anxious to see your sister again?" he asked, taking a momentary break to readjust his pack.

"Oh! Certainly," she said, guilt playing across her face for a moment. "But…you can't fathom…could not possibly fathom how wonderful this freedom feels. To walk. To climb. To breathe the night air. To be free of a corset. Free of expectations and judgments and constraints. Yes, 'tis a hardship, but also 'tis a luxury."

Chingachgook bent his head in understanding. "Aye," he allowed. "English women have many luxuries, but being so tame and so secure does come with a price."

Cora smiled in relief. "You _do_ understand then. But, tell me, how is it you know so much about English women? That you are so well-versed in our society and such a fine speaker of our language? I have noted it several times and wondered at it."

Chingachgook paused for a moment, and he seemed to be weighing a decision over in his mind. Finally, he spoke, but not without some difficulty, as though the words were traveling from some place deep and distant within him.

"Yes, 'tis true I am well-versed in English ways," he said, "I have been to your shores before."

Cora looked taken aback, but Chingachgook continued on without stopping, waving his arm slightly to command her forward on the path.

"As a young man, I traveled to England with several settlers from your land. They made many great promises to my people and I, and as Chief, they wanted me to experience your country with my own eyes. To see what they could do to our land. How they could build upon it and make it great," the old man said, his voice dripping with bitterness on that word.

"The journey was meant to forge a partnership between us. To encourage us to sign away our land and peacefully move along with their plans for progress. I was there for many months," said Chingachgook, his eyes beginning to glaze over as he remembered the time in vivid detail, "I shall never forget it. The noise. The stone buildings. The smoke. The people. Their eyes…how they stared at me! I am not ashamed to admit I was frightened. I looked around me and I saw many things that made no sense to me, things that seemed to fly in the very face of Nature. Things that seemed an insult to the Great Mother."

Cora listened, wholly enraptured as she imagined how this Indian must have felt seeing her loud, bustling city for the first time.

"I hated every moment," he said, walking with his head bent down. "All of the things the white men boasted of—the fine foods and soft beds and warm baths—I wanted none of them. I wanted my people, my land, my place back under the stars. Why, the buildings are so high there and the sky so cloudy, you cannot even see the spirits shining down!"

Cora smiled. He was describing the place to her as though she had never been there. "Aye," she said, and then a touch of wistfulness came to her face. She quoted dreamily,

"I wander thro' each charter'd street,  
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,  
And mark in every face I meet  
Marks of weakness, marks of woe."

Chingachgook's face brightened. "Is that a poem of your people?"

She laughed, "'Tis! But I have no idea why it just came to me. Alice, I suppose. She always has loved poetry. She can repeat scads of it by memory. She used to do it at parties before…before she was unwell."

"Ah," said Chingachgook, one hand holding a thorny limb carefully for Cora to pass by unscathed. "I should like to hear her recite someday. She seems to have a poet's nature."

Cora frowned a bit. "She's a dreamer, that's for certain. Let's just say she has never found reality to be very satisfactory, so she seems to constantly find ways to escape it, be it in a book or in her own mind."

The old Indian looked deep at her, then continued walking. "You find this frustrating," he said, "Her behavior. It insults you?"

She let out a ragged rush of air. "No..No! I—I just am tired. For 17 years, I have been her guardian. Father was always away, and even with our nurses and governesses, Alice just always was so needy. Always looking for love and affection. And then, of course…she found it."

Chingachgook said nothing, realizing that Cora was about to reveal something that had been weighing on her mind for a long time.

"It was a few years ago. There was a new lieutenant in town. The women were all simply mad for him. He was at every ball, every art gallery, every dinner…everyone wanted to be in his company. He was one of Father's favorites. He spent more time at home than he ever had before, just to be in this man's company it seemed. It was as if he was the son…the son he always wanted," said Cora sadly, her eyes misting over as she gazed ahead on the path.

For a moment she was silent, but then she began again. "But then, then things turned sour. This man…he began to develop a reputation. There were two girls, two girls from highly-regarded families—he, he spent time with them. Time alone. Unchaperoned. There were rumors, vicious rumors. They were ruined, of course, the women. But this man, he continued to hold his head high. Father continued to invite him over. He stayed with us for Michaelmas, him and several other friends and members of society. It was a packed house. Father was meant to be there as well, but he was called away suddenly to Cornwall."

Cora stopped suddenly. "Let's rest for a moment," she said to Chingachgook, the first time in days that she had asked for such a respite.

He nodded in concern and helped to ease her to a comfortable seated position.

"That's when it happened. The terrible…terrible incident. I awoke to screams, a loud banging. I thought we were under attack. That intruders were in the home. There had been a rash of robberies in the city," she said, her voice sounding far-off, "So that is what I thought. Robbers! I raced to Alice's room. It was just down the hall from mine. I saw—I saw her there, just there-"

Cora shuddered and put her head in her hands. Chingachgook said lowly, "Please do not continue if it so troubles you—please."

"No," she said, almost angrily, "I must! You see, I saw it. She was lying there on the rug. She was not…she was not dressed. Her clothes were torn off, on the floor. And that man—that vicious man—was holding her down, trying to climb atop her as she screamed and screamed. He was like an animal! I—I raced—I almost raced to her, but there were arms around me. Our nurse, she stilled me. I turned and saw that a crowd was gathering in the hall. So many people had been awakened by the noise. They all came running to see! And Alice, there, naked on her bedroom floor…this man atop her! Oh, I cannot continue!"

She began to sob. Chingachgook did not move to soothe her. He understood crying as a natural need, not something to be prevented or interrupted. The sobs moved through her like the clouds traveling across the sky, and he watched both in quietness.


	14. Chapter 14

After many moments, Cora roughly wiped her eyes and nose on the hem of her dress, her credo on ladylike behavior long forgotten.

She continued her story anew, looking up at the Indian with steely reserve: "And, so, you see Alice was…ruined as well. Beyond ruined! Branded with disgrace," she exclaimed. "Who could believe that she was innocent? She let him into the room after all, well past nightfall. And so many of us had seen her flirting with him. Like all the other girls, she was enamored with him. She longed for his attention and often spoke of his handsome ways."

Chingachgook said nothing.

"None of them believed her. But I—I knew her to be innocent. I knew Alice would not have done something so rash, so vulgar…she was so child-like. She knew nothing of such things. And, yet, yet, I was so angry with her. I felt she had brought this shame upon herself, upon the family. How could she be so stupid as to let him into her room late at night? And, then, afterwards…She just sank into despair. She said nothing, nothing at all, for weeks at a time. She gave no defense. She offered no case."

"And what happened to the young man?" asked Chingachgook, after Cora had been silent for a long while.

"He was transferred. Father was furious with him, of course. Wanted him hanged. But he was a fine solider. His superiors valued him. They protected him," groaned the dark-haired woman, "Protected them the way I ought to have protected Alice. But I…I did not. I raged at her silences. Her helplessness. It was I who told Father she ought to be sent away. That she had no chance in society now. That a convent would give her the care and respite she needed. He could not disagree. He always deferred to me when it came to her, and besides he was miles away. He only had my word to go by."

Chingachgook nodded in understanding.

"And, so…so I took her there," she said, "The convent. A haven for unwed mothers and other disgraced women. I told her a falsehood, that it would only be for a few days. But, of course, it was meant to be for many years…possibly forever. I planned to visit often, and I did, at first. But then she refused to see me. Many months past and I did not see her. I was in a state of grief and shock. Very few families would accept me into their home. I was as disgraced as she. I knew not what to do or where to turn.

"In the end, my conscience plagued me beyond reason. I felt I had to see Alice and ascertain she was alright. The nuns would not allow it. They told me she was ill. Finally, I had the idea to send my maid in, to pretend she was looking for work so she could bring me news of Alice."

Here Cora stumbled. "The—the news she gave me was terrible. She said the place was hellish. Filled with bugs and rats. The girls weren't given enough to eat, and what they were given was rotten. They were beaten for small infractions or no infractions at all. They were forced to work past the point of exhaustion. Some…some had their heads shaved. Others died from the poor conditions and because they were not permitted to see a doctor though they were terribly ill."

Chingachgook's face clouded with anger and disgust.

"I knew then I had to get her out," she said, "I wrote to Father and told him of the news, but he was already halfway to the New World. So I did the only thing I knew how."

She stopped and caught a shaky breath, then continued:

"I crept into the convent late at night. My maid helped me enter. She told me where Alice was but I did not permit her to accompany me. I took nothing but Father's revolver. I moved like a mouse, as quietly as I could. The smell of the place! And the sounds of the women. The crying and moaning," Cora shuddered, "I can't bear to remember it. All I know is that I got to Alice as quickly as I could. She was cloaked in nothing but a dirty white sheet. Her hair hadn't been brushed in weeks. Her face was dirty and her fingers bloodied down to the bone. It wasn't until later I realized that was from scratching the stone wall."

A new wave of horror broke over Cora's face as she recalled that memory. "At first, she did not trust me. I was almost afraid she would cry out. She seemed not to know me. She struggled…she looked at me with such a strange expression, as if I were her executioner and not her savior. But, finally, finally I reasoned with her. I told her…I told her, 'Alice, Alice, follow me. Mama is waiting. Mama wants to meet you, dear girl. You must follow me if you want to meet your Mama.'"

The girl broke out in exhausted sobs. This time Chingachgook did move towards her, stroking her back and speaking soft words of comfort.

"She came…she came. She really believed me," cried Cora. "It was terrible. When she learned I had tricked her again. But there was no other way. I got her in our carriage and took her home. I cleaned her up. I tried to fix it. But, sir, there was no fixing it. So I brought her here…to Father…I hoped he could repair the damage I did…"

…And now?" Cora continued, "Now I walk here gladly, not just because I am excited to be free from a crushing civilization, but because I am relieved. Relieved to be away from her. My broken sister. Oh! I have been cruel to her. I wanted her to wake out of this daze, I wanted her to get better, to be _Alice_ again. I felt as though her madness was my punishment—her unending madness—and so these past few days without her, without that empty look in her eyes…I feel like a prisoner released!"

She cried for a great while on the old Indian's shoulder. She did not stop when Nathaniel came seeking them. She did not stop when the sun set. She did not stop when the moon rose high in the sky. Finally, she stopped only when Nathaniel stilled her, gathering her into his arms and holding her until she fell asleep.

"What say you, Father?" he asked, over her finally slumbering head.

Chingachgook cleared his throat quietly, then said, "These white men do dark deeds. I hear of their stories and my blood turns to ice. If this is how they treat their own people, how shall they treat us?"

Nathaniel grunted in angry approval.

"And, too, I think of my son," said Chingachgook. "My son and this poor girl. I hope he does nothing foolish…I hope he does not try to fix what the white man broke."

The two men met eyes. Each knew that such hope was futile, that somewhere Uncas was out there in the dark, out there with a gray-eyed girl who looked for ghosts and spoke to shadows, her fingers bloody from the very exertion of living.


	15. Chapter 15

At that very moment, nigh on twenty miles westward, Uncas was doing exactly as his father and brother supposed he was doing. Staring worshipfully at a sleeping Alice under a thick blanket of stars, his heart was heavy with many things.

Since he had lost control with her in the morning, Alice had been calm and pleasant-natured the rest of the day. But, then, Uncas thought, it was not exactly true that he had lost control. If he were to be honest, as Uncas always was, he had to admit that he had been completely in control throughout Alice's spanking. He was clear-headed and conscious, aware not only of his intentions, but of his very inhales and exhales, and those of Alice as well. In short, it had been no mistake, no lapse of judgment or momentary loss of his sense. He had wanted to do it, and so he did.

And, strangest of all, Alice had seemed as though she wanted him to do it as well. How else could one explain her behavior the rest of the day? She had been present and engaged in a way that he had not yet seen before. Except, he realized, the night he kissed her, and the night they held each other in the tall grass. Physical contact with him seemed to bring her alive, keep her grounded...keep her from spiriting off to that planet of pain that she seemed to have buried in her brain.

He shuddered when he considered that wealth of suffering, how difficult and tragic her life must have been in recent years to have affected her in such a way. For while he did not know English girls very well, he could tell with simple certainty that Alice was unusual, touched in the head...perhaps even utterly mad.

The idea made his stomach sink. He felt as though he were embarking on an impossible journey, as though he was chasing a doomed and dying star. He shut his eyes. Damn the white man, he thought. Damn him and damn the way he breaks his women.

And, then, although he tried not to, Uncas fell asleep.

Uncas was awakened by the sound of frantic screaming. It took him merely a second to wake up and remember where he was, and to discover that it was a thrashing Alice next to him that was screaming, but that second seemed to last for a century.

He leapt from his seated position to where she lay flailing beside him. She was clearly in the throes of a horrific nightmare and out of her head with fear and fighting. As much as Uncas wanted to soothe her, his first and most pressing instinct was to make her quiet. If any Huron were nearby, her screams would carry through the night and announce their presence to all.

Even though Alice was thrashing savagely, Uncas was easily able to overpower her, mainly because he spent no thought caring if he was gentle with her. He roughly pinned her down underneath his body and fastened her kicking legs between his, and wrapped his large hand around her mouth. This caused her to open her eyes in terror, and Uncas felt a wave of relief as he relaxed the nightmare was over.

But if he expected Alice's terror to end, he was decidedly wrong. Instead, when Alice's eyes opened and discovered his hand on her mouth and his body crushing atop hers, she seemed to completely lose all sense of her human self, instead turning into something completely animalistic and ferocious. Her hands went up to his arms, clawing painfully, igniting burning marks of pain as they ripped at his flesh. She sank her teeth into his hand, fairly gnawing at it, as if she were a trapped raccoon chewing his leg out of a trap.

Uncas was aghast. He had no idea what to do or what was happening. Again, his sweet girl had turned on him, changing from her submissive earlier self into something he could not recognize. Finally, it dawned on him: She didn't realize it was him. She was not truly awake. She was not fighting him, but whatever evil spirits lived in her dreams.

"Alice, Alice," he whispered, letting her bite and claw at him without resistance. He would rather she clawed him to all tarnation than risk her screaming again into the night. "Alice, do you hear? It's me, Uncas. It's just me, Uncas. It was a dream, only a bad dream."

Then, remembering how she had responded before, he slipped into speaking Mohican, whispering things to her in his language he would not dare say to her in English. That he had been burning for her touch since the moment he first laid eyes on her, that she was most exquisite and mysterious thing he had ever seen, that stumbling upon her in the forest was like coming across a mermaid in the middle of dry land. That he thought of nothing but her every moment, her silken silvery hair, her soft, scented skin, her full lips, her deliciously plump curves, and most of all, her shining, soulful gray-blue eyes.

Finally, he ran out of words worthy of her, and instead just whispered, "It's me, little mouse. You're safe, little mouse. My dear little mouse. Be still, mouse."

The spell that fear had cast on her slowly seemed to shatter. It was like watching dawn breaking on her face. He gingerly removed his hand from her mouth. She lay there stunned for a moment, and then released a large quivering breath.

"Oh! Oh, Uncas!" She cried. "Uncas! Where were you? Where were you? Don't leave me again!"

She clung violently to his chest, rubbing her head back and forth against him, as if she was trying to burrow deep inside of him.

"Shh, shh," he said, shifting his position so that he was lying beside her on the forest floor, their legs entwined and their bodies smashed together. "I was here, little one. I never went anywhere. I never left you. I was here."

She sobbed aloud. "No, no, you weren't! He was here, he was holding me down. It was happening all over again. Everyone was watching! Where were you? Oh, Uncas, where were you?"

He let out a low groan at the sight of her in such distress. "Don't speak of it anymore," he said, "Just be still. You must be still. Let us talk of it later."

As much as he desired to know what she was speaking of, he wanted her racing heartbeat to slow, and the panting quick sobs she was emitting to cease before they discussed the dream.

She did not heed. Instead, she sobbed and sobbed, carrying on about things he did not understand—bugs, and locked doors, and poisoned food, things that were born of a mad mind and made him sick to hear.

Finally, he did the only thing he knew how. He stopped cooing softly in her ear and embracing her gently. Instead, he pushed himself up on his arms and shoved her underneath him again.

"Alice!" he said roughly. "If you don't stop crying this way, I will lift your dress and spank you again, do you hear?"

Her eyes flew open. She seemed surprised, then angry.

"You wouldn't dare!" she cried out.

"Did you forget this morning already, you disobedient girl?" he laughed. "I certainly shall, if you don't mind me. And maybe this time, I won't be so gentle."

"You weren't gentle at all," she said, pouting. "I've been terribly sore all day."

"Good," he said, sinking back onto the ground beside with her satisfaction. "If a sore bottom is what it takes to remind you to heed me, then so be it."

"You are a cad," she hissed, but he could see that the faintest of smiles was playing on her lips. "You cannot just go around pulling women over your knee when they displease you."

He leaned forward and traced her pouting bottom lip. "I have no interest in pulling other women over my knee. Just you. And only when you don't listen, little one," he added gently.

Although she tried to resist, a small smile did appear on her tear-streaked face now, followed by a small shaky sigh.

"Oh, Uncas," she said, forlornly. "It was terrible. Please don't be angry with me. I can't stomach it after such an awful dream."

"Ah," he replied, settling back down and curving her into him, his chest pressed into her back and her bottom square upon his groin. "I was never angry with you, little one. I was worried you would do yourself an injury."

She rubbed her soft cheek against his hand that was clasped in hers, then kissed it. "Will you hold me till I fall asleep again?"

"Nay," he said, stern again. "We aren't sleeping now."

"What do you mean?" she asked, twisting to look at him with confusion.

"It's time now, little one," he said. "Time to tell me."

"Tell you what?" she asked, keeping her voice even. However, her body stiffened like a rod in his arms.

"Tell me what happened in London. Tell me what these nightmares are. Tell me what haunts you so."

"I—I daren't," she said.

"Why not?"

"I would lose your esteem. You would…you would be shamed to know me," she said, her voice hollow and ragged.

"Never," he vowed. "Don't speak such nonsense."

"Uncas, please, no—I don't want—"

"Alice," he said, tightening his grasp around her. "Tell me. Now."

And so it was, with the crescent moon high in the summer sky, that Alice told her story. Slowly at first, and then all at once.


	16. Chapter 16

Unlike Cora, Alice told her story without sobbing and without stopping. Uncas felt as though he was being told the story by a stranger, as though it was not Alice speaking to him but a cool impartial observer.

She told of a man named Fitzwilliam, a favorite in her Father's white army. How he was handsome and heroic and loved by all the ladies. How he turned her head with compliments and poetry and small gifts. How he came to her late at night saying that he had just received word that his dear mother had died, and that he needed Alice's friendly ear.

The next part of the story Uncas could barely hear. The volume of Alice's voice changed not, but the roaring sound in his ear made it difficult to be sensible of what she was saying. As she told of how the man forced himself upon her and stripped off her clothes, he felt himself nearly lose his grip on his own sanity. Instantly, images flew unbidden through his mind-images of Alice being harmed and frightened, her small, soft body helpless and woefully mistreated by a monster of the highest proportions. Oh! He raged. He wanted the man dead, he wanted to watch the life bleed out of his eyes as he scalped him slowly and sloppily.

But Alice continued. And the next part of her story made the rage cease and his heart bleed for her. His Alice, trapped away in a dark, dirty room, hungry and dirty and uncared for. His little mouse, being told that she was damned and bound for hell. Alice, frightened out of her mind, thinking she would never be free or loved or warm or treated kindly again.

When the story ended, she lay stiff in his arms. He had been wordless the entire time. Now, he spoke.

"Sit up," he said.

She obeyed meekly, clearly expecting this rejection. He sat up as well, then surprised her by moving behind her, pulling her seated body in between his open legs.

Then, he began to take the pins out of her hair, reverently stroking each glossy stand smooth down her back.

"What- what are you doing?" She asked.

"Shh, shh. No more talking tonight," he said.

And then, in silence, he finger combed her long hair, dividing it into equal strands. Humming a Mohican lullaby his mother used to sing to him, he patiently braided her blonde hair.

She sat motionless for many minutes. But as he worked, he began to feel a change come over. He sensed the tension stream out of her as he braided, as he devoted himself whole-heartedly to her care. Let me tend to you, his hands seemed to say, let me be the one to lick your wounds and mend your broken spirit.

And, as she sank back against his broad chest, her hair in a shining braid down her back, she seemed to say in return: Yes, you are the one, you are the one who can mend me.

 **oOOOo**

It was before dawn when Uncas shifted in his sleep, his eyes blinking in confusion as he broke through the surface of waking. Alice was snug against his chest, her scent overpowering his nostrils as she snuggled deeper against his moving body with a moan.

But for once, her scent did not bring him comfort.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

His body tensed and his black eyes shot fully open. Even before he sat up, he knew: They had been discovered. Every cell within him screamed in alarm. How could he be so stupid!? How could he have fallen asleep? Like a doe in a hunter's sights, he felt his ears prick back and his stomach clench with dismay.

He straggled up out of his supine position, his eyes narrowing ferociously as he reached for his weapon. He would fight to the death. He would shed as much blood as he could. He was prepared to sacrifice himself, body and soul, to earn even a small moment of safety for his treasured belonging.

No sooner was he standing and loading his bow then he heard a deep shaking of laughter coming from the trees. Keeping his expression hard and motionless, Uncas watched as several Huron came out from their hiding places. Ferocious looking warriors, each was prepared for battle, many in war paint. They were enjoying themselves, thought Uncas, this was a pleasure for them.

The man he knew to be Magua stepped forward, and Uncas noted that a pelt of red hair hung from his belt. Duncan.

Uncas kept his gaze steady, refusing to even look down at Alice, though he could tell from a sudden gasp she made that she was now awake and watching the scene unfold as well. Don't move, little one, he willed her, and he felt that she was heeding him as her very breath seemed to stop.

"We are here for the white girl," said Magua, not unkindly. "We want not to war with you."

Uncas grunted.

"We are here for the white girl," Magua repeated. "I respect your people. I want not to war with fellow Indians. The white man is the enemy now. Do you heed?"

Wordlessly, Uncas shook his head.

"I will have her," said Magua. "Her father owes me blood."

"She does not belong to her father anymore," said the Mohican. "She belongs to me."

Magua's eyebrows shot up at this. "You have taken her as your own?"

"She is my property," said Uncas flatly. "You will not take her."

Magua laughed again, a sickening empty sound. "I will not shed your blood," he said, "You are a fine warrior and the last of your people. The Great Mother would surely punish me for removing your noble bloodline from this earth."

A bit of relief dawned in Uncas, only to be dashed at Magua's next statement.

"But I will have your "property", do you understand? I will have the daughter of the vile white beast. I will have all of her. " he said with menace, motioning now to the two men beside him.

They approached as one unit, headed straight for where Alice was now quivering in senseless fear behind Uncas. She grabbed his legs desperately. Uncas raised his bow.

"Do not come forward," he threatened. "One step more and I will end your lives."

Then, the shrubs behind him moved and Alice screamed. Her arms were suddenly yanked from his legs. Uncas whirled around.

A lean, hungry looking warrior held a knife tightly around Alice's white neck. Four more Huron came out from behind the bushes, their expressions cold and victorious. One picked up the buffalo skin on the ground and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"It is no good," announced Magua. "You have lost. Accept defeat as a warrior. Do not bring shame upon yourself by begging."

Uncas could not speak if he tried. He stared at Alice in devastation, her large gray eyes wild with fear as the knife dug closer to her skin.

"Uncas," she whispered, "Uncas."

Keeping the knife flush against her skin, the Huron warrior pulled Alice to her feet and dragged her to where the others stood.

"So simple," said Magua. "One minute she is here, one minute she is gone. So turns the wheel."

With that, he turned on his heel and began heading east back into the thick trees. Uncas watched as his warriors followed him, Alice's twisting white body dragged alongside as she looked desperately back at her lover.

"Do not follow us, boy," said Magua, turning and calling out loudly to the frozen Indian. "I will slit her throat open the moment I hear your footfall. Go back to your people. The white girl is not yours any longer."

He wanted to curse out at Magua, to assure Alice he would come for her regardless of all threats. But nothing came. No words. No comfort. No hope. Lost in the blackness. No air.

"Uncas!" cried Alice, her voice nearly muffled as she was unceremoniously tossed over a Huron's back. "Uncas!"

Alice, he thought, and then—she was gone.

 **oOOOo**

Uncas sank in utter despair onto the soaked grass of the morning. He felt a sense of loss beyond anything he had experienced in his twenty-seven years, beyond the death of his mother, beyond the near destruction of his tribe. He could not have felt more bereft if he had discovered the earth had disappeared before his very feet.

Shame and rage battled within him—shame that he had lost his woman, allowed her to be taken, to be…ravaged…tortured, and surely killed. He felt as though his very manhood had been cut off, as though he had failed at his most primal and necessary task.

But soon rage spoke louder, drowned out the sounds of his own inadequacies. He did not protect her, he did not save her: But he could avenge her. Bloodlust charred his veins. He would see Magua prone and beaten before him, he would slash him open until his intestines ran like a river from his belly, he would remove his scalp, his eyes, his teeth, one by one, while he was still alive. Magua would become a byword, a legend, a warning to all. His death would frighten little children and warriors alike for decades to come. And it would take a monster to deliver such an end.

Uncas tightly pulled his long black hair into a low ponytail and strapped his bow to his back. He knelt to the ground and said a low simple prayer to Kwakwaka'wakw, the god of war.

"Make me a monster," he commanded. "Kill the man inside of me. Fashion me wholly to your service—the service of bloodshed, pain and death."

He rose. He knew his prayer was answered. The man—the man Alice once held in her arms—was now dead.


	17. Chapter 17

_-I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone for reading & leaving such kind reviews! This is my first fanfic & I am having a blast. I hope you all continue to read & enjoy. Although these next few chapters will be bleak, I promise better days ahead! And plenty of M, M, M! ;)-_

In less than a week, Alice had set foot on a new continent, been nearly kidnapped, seen her first taste of death, walked over 90 miles, fallen in love with an Indian….and then she really been kidnapped.

But nothing shocked Alice like arriving at Magua's camp and seeing a familiar face waiting there.

"Nathaniel!" cried out the disheveled blonde joyfully. His rugged face was streaked with dirt and blood, and one of his eyes was swollen completely shut, but Alice couldn't have smiled wider if she was looking at the Savior himself.

"Ah, me brother's girl," he groaned, standing to rise, struggling, and then stopping as he remembered he was tied to a post.

Alice hissed in anger at the Huron who unceremoniously dumped her beside him, looping a prickly piece of twine around her wrists as she stared up at Nathaniel happily. Secured painfully to the post, she heeded the discomfort not, until a frightened thought dawned on her.

"Cora?" she asked with panic in her voice. "Cora?"

Nathaniel titled his head down and spoke lowly to her in Latin, shocking Alice once again. Chingachgook clearly spared no effort on his sons' education. "Do not speak of her to me," he said. "She is safe with my father, but for you to know more would be dangerous. They will do anything to get it out of me…and you, if they think you have knowledge."

Alice nodded in wide-eyed assent, asking in Latin. "What will they do…do to you to make you tell her whereabouts?"

He laughed bitterly, returning to English. "Whatever monstrous thing Magua can think of. I will not be long for this earth, whether I speak or no."

Alice shivered. Certainly death had been staring at her in the face nearly since she arrived upon this strange land, but as with most young people, the concept of it seemed ludicrous. How could she die? How could Nathaniel, fiery, wild Nathaniel simply…die? She met eyes with Magua across the camp, where he now stood eating a piece of buffalo meat hungrily. She felt as if Death himself had met her gaze. And, she thought wryly, she also felt a little peckish.

She looked back at Nathaniel and found he was waiting for her attention impatiently.

"My brother?" he asked, his voice harsh and angry. He suspected that if Alice was here, it could only be because her champion was dead.

Alice smiled. "He is well," she said. "He is alive and unharmed."

At this Nathaniel smiled too. "That surprises me."

"We were surrounded…there was nothing he could do," she said, though deep down she had to admit she was a bit surprised by Uncas's stony and silent reaction. She thought he might at least call her name or beg for one last kiss. But, then, she remembered this wasn't Romeo, this was an Indian warrior with a stoic reputation to uphold.

"I pray he does nothing stupid," said Nathaniel, again in Latin. "But I doubt that."

"If he comes after us, he will surely die!" said Alice in horror. "He would surely not be so foolish!"

Nathaniel seemed to weary suddenly. "Of course he would," he breathed. "I would do the same, were it Cora instead of you. I only wish he knew I was here. It would bring him a modicum of comfort."

Alice looked up at the sky silently and prayed that God would not allow Uncas to follow them.

A young child of about five years old came tottering over to where Alice and Nathaniel were tied. With a mixture of childlike carelessness and concentration, he held out a flagon of water for them to drink, beginning with Alice. She smiled in spite of herself at this adorable creature, even as water spilt down her chin at his over-eager assistance. Nathaniel then drank as well, deeply and without smiling.

"Thank you, child," said Alice, at which the boy merely shrieked in delight and ran away.

Nathaniel had been watching her for a few long moments. Finally, Alice asked, "What is it?"

"You seemed…changed," he said bluntly, "And I do not just mean your hairstyle."

Alice laughed. "I feel different, yes. I feel changed."

He seemed annoyed. "Do you grasp the severity of the predicament we are in?" He asked, fearing Cora's mad sister was once again struggling to manage reality.

Alice's face darkened. "Yes," she said, solemnly. "And I am sickened for you. I will beg Magua to let you go, to realize that you are not affiliated with my Father and his crimes in anyway."

"And yourself?" he asked, still deeply confused by this girl his father called the Silver One. "Do you not wish you never came to this godforsaken place?"

She looked taken aback. "No…no, never. I may die here…certainly I will die here. But I never lived before I stepped foot on your earth. Before Uncas…" She said, her voice trailing off. "It was worth it. It will be worth whatever comes. "

Nathaniel bristled a little. "Don't speak such nonsense, girl. You're seventeen years old…you have never married or bore children or made a home for yourself. And my brother—he is the last of my people. If your lives were to be snuffed out, it would be worth _nothing_ , _nothing_ do you hear?"

Again, Alice paled at the thought of harm coming to her beloved. Yet even as Nathaniel chastised her, she found some comfort in his anger. It reminded her of Cora. They were both so alike—vulnerability terrified them, but rather than admit to fear, they raged instead. How strange, thought Alice. All of this time, I thought I was the weak one, the one who was scared to face things, but it was Cora who was struggling, Cora who had to pick up the pieces everyday as her broken little sister stared into space and her father was worlds away.

Oh, Cora! She felt a twinge of regret for how cold she had been to Cora as of late, for how she had burdened her with so much and thanked her so little. My dear sister, she thought. My dear brave, frightened sister.

"Try to get some sleep," said Nathaniel, resting his head back on the post. "You may not have the opportunity later."

"I am not tired," she said.

He grunted in irritation. Alice smiled quietly. Yes, he was very much Cora's match. She rested her head back and closed her eyes, though she knew sleep would not come. But she was glad to shut her eyes. Truly, she had much to think about, not only about Uncas, but about herself as well.

For Nathaniel was right, she was different—she felt it on almost a cellular level. On her long sojourn to Magua's camp, she had felt as though an unknown power had invaded her veins. As though a spirit was there, lighting her up from the inside out, even as she walked beside her captors, beside her executioner himself. _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death_ , _I will fear no evil._

She wondered at this development, wondered at it immensely. Alice had never been a spiritual person, except when she was overcome with fears of hell, but thoughts of God had never brought her comfort. And was it God that was bringing her comfort now? She could not be sure.

Certainly something had changed. As she was dragged into the forest, she immediately tried to skitter into the safe room inside of her mind, the room where she hid from reality and pain and fear. But try as she might to shut herself off and slip away, again and again Uncas's face came to her. She found that he would not allow her to disappear, that the thought of him, the smell of him, the sight of her braid out of the corner of her eye, all of these things kept her strong and present. And so she would not disappear this time, she decided. She would face Magua's revenge with pride and strength, as Uncas would in her stead.

Uncas, she thought, gazing up at the stars that were beginning to emerge from the night sky. Though she felt brave in the face of her own demise, she had not prepared for the thought that Uncas might follow them. The thought of him being hurt—tortured—killed, the thought of the him suffering on her account…Oh! That alone nearly made her lose all her resolve.

Please, God, she begged. Let Uncas not find us. Sway his mind. Make him let me go. Let me go, Uncas.

Her prayer was interrupted by a cold voice.

"Untie her," Magua said to the young man beside him. "Take her to my tent."

Nathaniel began to speak to him violently in what Alice presumed to be Magua's language, but all he got for his troubles was a swift blow to head. Then, another, and another, and another, until finally the man's head collapsed forward like that of a puppet.

Alice watched this all unfold with pale, shaking silence, feeling as though she was about to walk off the edge of a cliff. Be brave, little mouse, she heard a voice say in her head, and she sighted her braid out of the corner of her eye once again.

She looked up proudly, meeting Magua's empty gaze easily.

"Let's go," she said, shrugging.

And the warrior stared at her in disbelief as she followed him as casually as if he was taking her for a walk along the Thames.


	18. Chapter 18

_(Trigger warning: Violence/small suggestion to sexual violence.)_

Men and women of all ages watched in silence as the blonde-haired white girl walked through their camp. Her carriage was erect and proud, and although her pink dress was tattered and torn, she gave off the air of one wearing silk robes. She met every gaze equally, as if she was challenging someone to rise against her. _If he is with me, who can be against me?_

The arrogance of it incensed Magua, although he had to admit part of him was shaken by this mysterious girl. He had expected tears, pleading, even anger, but this? He had never seen an English girl behave so. Does she think I will not harm her? wondered Magua. Can she be so naïve? She will soon be disabused of the notion, he thought in sadistic pleasure.

He roughly pushed the girl into the yawning of his tent. She looked around casually, as if she had been invited for tea.

"Sit," he commanded. "While the fire gets hotter."

Alice did not know what that meant, and a squeeze of dread came over her. Uncas, she thought, Oh, Uncas.

"Take off your dress," he said flatly.

"You will have to rip it off of me," she said, in an equally flat tone.

"Take it off," he said, cussing at her violently, as he threw her flat on her back. She put up little fight but then suddenly and unexpectedly, she spit in his face. He slapped her hard. Then once more.

And then he ripped the disheveled gown off, leaving her trembling on the floor in her chemise.

He walked over to the fire in the center of the room, where he began to poke and prod at something in concentration. Alice shut her eyes. Why will he not just do it? She wondered. Let it be over with. She knew the first time would be the worst, that women said it hurt and bled. Even with their husbands, who assuredly would be gentler than an enraged Indian.

She put her hands over her eyes and started humming tunelessly. It was not long before she felt Magua cross the room and stand above her.

"Take off that vain slip or I will brand your face," he said, arousal started to churn inside of him.

Her eyes flew open in horror. He stood before her holding a branding iron, glowing orange hot from the fire. She gasped in alarm. She could not…she would not…Uncas. Uncas. Uncas. Uncas. Uncas. Uncas, Uncas. Uncas.

She realized that the words were not in her head and that she was screaming aloud, "Uncas, Uncas, Uncas, Uncas!"

The hate-light sharpened in Magua's eyes. He tore the shift off roughly, exposing Alice's naked body before his eyes. Then, as she twisted beneath him, he seared her with the branding iron, the smell of burning flesh filling the tent as he laid the instrument against her beating breast.

And, then, mercifully, she found the room inside of her mind again, and she was gone.

 **oOOOo**

In the light of the morning, Nathaniel awakened to find an unconscious Alice being dumped beside him. To his confusion, she was not tied to the post, but rather left face first in the ground, appearing nearly lifeless save the sound of her ragged breath.

Gazing down in dread, Nathaniel realized why they had not tied her…her hands and wrists were covered in blood, the nails ripped down almost clean to the bone. She was not wearing the dress she wore before, but a skirt made of animal skins and a top of similar material, which tied around her neck and left her arms and belly exposed. Her bare skin revealed a nightmare of abuse, with already forming bruises on almost every inch of her.

He shuddered like a small child, biting his tongue to prevent himself from crying out.

The smell was terrible, he noticed. Nathaniel could not place it at first, but then realized that she must have urinated on herself. His face flushed. What had they done to her? He could see that she had been sorely used throughout the night—her body was a patchwork of scars and burns, but he knew not what story they told.

"Alice?" He called out, gently. "Alice?"

She made no reply. Oh, what had her brother called her? He wished he could remember. He wished he had his bow and arrow. He wished he had a gun. He wished he could remove Magua's head from his body with his bare hands. He wished his brother to never, ever know of this.

"Alice?" he called out again, tears beginning to pour from his eyes. He could not bear this. He thought they would torture him surely, and he would face it head-on, like a warrior of 37 years ought. But this? This was unconscionable.

Then, Alice stirred slightly and made a tiny mewing sound.

"Alice! Alice!" he cried. "Are you greatly harmed? Alice! Move over here a little, let me see you better."

She rolled slightly, turning her face to his voice. He gasped as the new day's sun fell upon her visage. Her plump lips were swollen and bitten, and her right eye was fearfully bruised. There was a deep, bleeding cut along her left brow.

"Uncas? Uncas?" she moaned piteously.

"No, no," said Nathaniel, ashamed to feel that tears continued to come down his face. "It is I, his brother."

"I—I prayed for him not—not—not to come," she said, nearly incoherent from her fattened lips. "But now—oh now, Nathaniel, why won't he come? Please, can he come now? Can he come now?"

Nathaniel shook his head, wanting to scream ferociously at the sky but not wanting to frighten her or gain Magua's attention. He tried in vain to pull his hands loose so that he could comfort the poor girl, or at least tend to the bleeding wounds on her face.

"Can you come to me, little one?" he asked, and the words seem to work a spell, as she found a spark of energy—a small spark, but enough to let her drag her head into his lap. And then, she shook there, spasms vibrating through her body as she trembled roughly and helplessly.

"Uncas," she said, "I want Uncas. I want Uncas."

His heart breaking, Nathaniel did the only thing he could think of: He sang a song to her in Mohican, and then another, and another, until she finally passed out with an empty hollow moan.

 **oOOOo**

For many hours the captured pair remained in this position. Nathaniel watched as the Huron moved efficiently through their camp, the women cooking and tending to children, as the men sat speaking in low voices beside the fire. No one seemed to pay the white ones a second thought, and there was no sign of Magua at all.

When a young girl came walking over to them in the noonday sun, Nathaniel at first thought he was dreaming. She was carrying a plate of food—corn and beans from the looks of it—and she was smiling openly.

She set the food down gently on the ground beside him. She looked questioning at Alice, as if to say, "Is she alright?"

Nathaniel grunted in disgust. What the hell do you think, woman?

Still wordless, she took the spoon and motioned for Nathaniel to open his mouth.

"Untie me," he demanded. Again, she smiled, but she shook her head.

Pride made him clamp his mouth shut, but reason and hunger won out. He needed to eat if he had any chance of protecting Alice. Plus, the food smelled heavenly, and he hadn't eaten in nearly 48 hours. He opened his mouth and allowed the pretty girl to feed him. She smiled all the way, and appeared totally at ease, as though there was nothing strange about feeing a white man as a woman lay bleeding and insensible in his lap.

"For her?" he asked, as the girl did not seem to be sparing any morsel for Alice's portion.

Here the girl spoke, just once, but firmly. "Magua says no," she said. "No food for her."

And with that, she gathered up the plate and left Nathaniel sitting there, the last bite of food feeling like dust in his mouth.

 **oOOOo**

Against his will, Nathaniel dozed off in the midday heat, awakening only when he felt the prodding of something hard against his chest. It was Magua pushing upon him with his bow. Nathaniel looked around in alarm.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Ah," said Magua. "She is being interrogated."

Nathaniel groaned. His hands twisted furiously again at the rope. He felt his skin slicing off and the blood pouring down the twine, but he cared not.

"Why do you do this?" He demanded. "This is not the warrior's way! Torture me! Harm me. Do not do this to her!"

"Where is the white man?"

"What do you mean?" hissed Nathaniel. "Duncan is dead."

Magua seemed confused. "Duncan? Ah," he realized. "The angry-haired one. No, I don't mean that fool. I mean their father, the Colonel."

"What do you mean?" Nathaniel repeated again. "He is at Fort Campbell, if not halfway here to kill you himself for taking his daughter!"

At that, Magua shook with laughter. "Nay," he said, "That he is not. Fort Campbell is a smoking funeral site and Colonel Munroe escaped like a cowardly rabbit into the night. He knows I have his daughter but cares not."

"That cannot be so!" said Nathaniel in disbelief.

"Oh, it is," said Magua, "I sent word and most assured proof that I have his youngest one. He refuses to come forward in her stead. I would have honored a noble trade such as that."

"He…he will not come?" stammered Nathaniel. He could not conceive of such a reality, of such a man who would not sacrifice himself for his blood.

"He will not come," said Magua with finality.

"So what then?" raged Nathaniel. "You will starve and torture his kin beyond all manner of humanity? And what next?"

"Death, white man," he hissed, "Death for you both….but not before I take a souvenir."

And, before Nathaniel realized what was happening, Magua cut off his right ear and held it triumphantly above his head.


	19. Chapter 19

"Get up, get up," Nathaniel heard a voice say roughly. He felt his shoulder being shook violently. He moaned in annoyance, pain slicing through his head like a knife. 

"No more, no more," he moaned. "Let me be."

Sleep was the only place he was safe from the pain, although it could hardly be called sleep, as he was merely floating on the edges on the unconsciousness.

"Now, my son," the voice said urgently, sounding familiar this time. "Now! You must rise."

He peeked half of an eye open, his left eye, as the other one was still swollen shut. It was hard to see through the haze of his vision and the black of night, but he saw a figure that reminded him of his father.

"You are dreaming," said Nathaniel to himself, laughing aloud. "It cannot be Father. I am going as mad as the Silver One."

"It is not a dream," said Chingachgook, shaking him even rougher. "And keep quiet, you will wake the whole camp!"

Nathaniel laughed again. "You sound just like him, spirit. But leave me—I would sleep."

He heard a harsh sigh and then felt the ropes around his wrists loosening. After three days of being tied to the pole, Nathaniel's skin and tissue had embedded into the twine, and he nearly howled in pain as the ropes went slack.

But then a cloud moved past the moon and Nathaniel's vision sharpened in the new light.

"Father!" He gasped. "'Tis you! 'Tis you! But…how? How?"

"Hush," said the old man, pulling his son unsteadily to his feet. "I will explain later. For now, we must move as quickly and quietly as we can. There is a boat a few miles away. We must get there."

"But I am guarded," spluttered Nathaniel, coming more clearly to his senses and fearing for his father's safety.

He turned then, to point to the two muscle-bound Huron, Mechon and Lamatan, who had stood sentinel over him every night. Then, he gaped. Mechon's throat was slit from ear to ear and Lamatan's was as well, except his head was almost entirely removed.

Chingachgook say his son's expression of horror. "Your brother," said the man softly. "Now move your feet."

"Uncas?" he asked in confusion.

"He is retrieving Alice. We will meet him by the boat."

Nathaniel paused mid-step. "By himself? He shall never be able to!"

Chingachgook grunted. "You know not what he is capable of. I myself have seen him do things these past three days I never would have thought possible."

Nathaniel understood. He remembered the state of Alice as she shook bleeding and broken in his lap, and he understood.

"Cora?" asked Nathaniel suddenly.

"Safe and waiting for you," Chingachgook said. "But you must move faster if you want to get to her."

"Aye," he replied, renewed vigor churning through him. "Lead me. I am ready."

 **oOOOo**

Uncas wiped his hands impatiently on his brown pants. So much blood, he thought. It rained down on him but it was never enough, it never filled the hole inside of him. And now it was slowing him down, making his hands slick and sticky as he tried to work his instruments of death.

Again, he wiped his hands vigorously and adjusted his tomahawk in his hands. All day he had waited for this moment. He had seen the tent where Magua's men had carried Alice, but it was from a great distance and he could not see her face. All he could see was that shining blonde hair, swinging loosely in the air as her body was lifted upwards.

As he saw her carried so crudely, he wanted nothing more than to charge into the camp and deliver bloodshed to all of them, even the children. But he knew he had to wait for nightfall if he wanted a chance of success.

And so he had. Hour after hour, second after second, not knowing what was being done to Alice, not knowing what cruelty she was suffering as he crouched motionless and mute. He aged beyond years that afternoon, he altered beyond recognition.

And now: It was time.

Silently, he lifted the flap of the tent and entered, his broad body as light as air as he moved like a hawk swooping down on his prey. A young woman sat weaving a basket before him, and her mouth fell open as she saw him.

He did not need to say a word. She took one look at his expression and his blood-soaked attire and her mouth clamped shut. With trembling fingers, she pointed towards the back of the tent. He walked past, as if to bypass her, but as she began to stand, he came behind her and twisted her neck. For a moment, the pair stood there, her gasping for air, him with an air of disinterest. Finally, she fell unconscious to the floor in a heap.

He moved with rapid step towards the back of the tent. He saw a huddled mass on the floor and instantly knew it to be Alice. Before he could move towards her, he felt a movement behind him. Again, with disinterested irritation, Uncas turned to face a middle-aged Huron. Before the man could even firmly grasp his weapon, Uncas sent him to the floor with one slash of his knife, blood spurting across Uncas's handsome face as the man's jugular bubbled and frothed.

Barely noticing the warm liquid, Uncas walked to where the trembling figure lay on the floor. He pushed the blanket aside. For the first time since entering camp, the warrior nearly was felled. There was his Alice—his Alice, yes, but beaten and abused beyond recognition. Her eyes were open but unaware, staring into nothingness as her breath came in quiet, painful gasps.

Pushing aside his feelings, Uncas's eyes narrowed. He carefully lifted her weight into his arms, feeling as he did so that his very touch caused her to wince. It seemed every part of her body was laced with some bruise or burn, as though there was nowhere he could place his hands that would not send waves of new pain through her body. Again, he found it difficult to concentrate, difficult to move. But he knew he was running out of time, knew that he needed to get to his father and brother as soon as possible, before the camp woke up and noticed her missing.

So, forcing himself to grip onto her body and ignore her trembling, he strode silently out of the tent, daring Magua and the world itself to separate him from his beloved.

 **oOOOo**

Walking in almost total darkness to the boat was no easy task even for a strong man, and doing so with two wounded and bewildered people made the journey nigh on impossible. Chingachgook was saddled with the more challenging task, as it was becoming difficult to keep Nathaniel conscious and on his feet after he had lost so much blood. Uncas knew it would easier for Chingachgook to carry feather-light Alice and for him to manage his brother, but the thought of relinquishing her from his arms, even to his own father, made him ill with rage.

Throughout the nearly two hour walk, the foursome was almost entirely silent, saved the occasional words of comfort Chingachgook whispered to his son. However, as they neared the boat which was bobbing gently in the moon-streaked water, Alice suddenly seemed to awaken out of her pain-induced daze.

She started like a frightened animal, nearly leaping out of Uncas's strong arms, but he reacted swiftly and fastened her securely back in his grasp. She looked around violently, and seeing Nathaniel before her, she cried out.

"Nathaniel, where are we? Nathaniel, where is he?" she exclaimed. "Why won't he come?"

Uncas frowned in dismay.

"Who does she speak of?" asked Chingachgook.

"Her father, perhaps," said the Indian gruffly, setting her gently down into the waiting boat.

But then the girl sobbed, "Uncas, I want Uncas. Uncas…why won't he come?"

Confused, Uncas wanted to respond and wrap her in his arms, but he was too busy helping his father get Nathaniel situated beside her.

"She is insensible," said Chingachgook, "We must get to her a healer."

Uncas grunted and sat at the back of the boat, wrapping his blood-stained callused hands around the oars.

"She is safe now, son," said his father comfortingly. "It's over."

Uncas frowned across the black cold water. "Nay, it's only just begun."

And with that, the boat spurred forwards, leaving everything and nothing behind at the same time.


	20. Chapter 20

- _"Peace of Mind" by The Jezabels was stuck in my head the whole time I wrote this, and I think it's a fitting song for this chapter & Alice/Uncas in general, so give it a listen while you read if you want! (It's on YouTube.)_

Alice lay motionless on a pallet in the middle of the healer's wigwam. Her clothes had been removed so that the elderly woman could tend to her every wound. Uncas refused to leave for this process at first, but the healer insisted, claiming that the warrior's energy was interfering with her abilities.

"Go out of here," hissed Andiora. "You smell of death and blood. I will not have it in my tent. This is a place for healing."

Uncas had the urge to wring the woman's neck, but he knew that she was right. Giving Alice's hand one last squeeze, he went to the river to bathe, but not before leaving three warriors posted outside the tent for protection.

They were at a camp of the Oneida people. Chief Han Yerry had been friendly with Chingachgook since childhood, and when he learned of the trouble his family was in, Chief Yerry was more than willing to provide protection and safe haven.

After bathing, Uncas checked in on his brother, who was sequestered safely in Cora's tent. When she saw what had been done to him, including the bleeding hole on the side of his head where his ear used to be, Uncas presumed she might faint. Instead, she had briskly walked over to a nearby pitcher of water and began washing her hands.

"Set him down," she had said simply. "I will care for him."

However, despite her strength, both Uncas and Chingachgook had decided she ought not to see Alice just yet. The latter because he wished to protect Cora, and the former because he wanted to share her bedside with no one.

After seeing that Nathaniel was faring well and even eating, Uncas decided he could no longer keep himself from Alice's side. He was prepared to fight Andiora on the issue, but when she saw him come in, she rose and nodded her welcome, motioning for him to come closer to the little trembling figure on the floor.

Uncas crouched down beside her in one rapid movement, being careful to make no noise and startle her as she appeared to be in a deep sleep.

"I gave her kava root," said Andiora, "To help ease her suffering."

Uncas nodded, giving the briefest look of deep gratitude to the healing woman, then went back to surveying Alice. She was still nude, save a few delicately placed cloths that Andiora had placed over her full breasts and her womanhood. Despite the fact that she was still his beautiful Alice, the sight of her undressed gave Uncas no pleasure, because it gave him a clear view of the torment she had suffered since he had lost her.

Her arms were brusied and her belly laced with burns. Her legs were bruised and streaked with small, precise cuts, as though someone had been toying with her. However, her sweet face was less alarming now that it had been washed clean of blood and dirt, but she had a black eye and a swollen lip, as well as a deep cut in the arch of her left brow.

"That is not the worst, I am afraid," said the healer, as Uncas took stock of her wounds with a lost expression on his face.

His eyes flashed at her remark, and the pain there gave Andiora pause.

"Speak, woman," he snapped. "I know they raped her…but how badly? Will she recover…is she greatly damaged there?"

Andiora seemed confused. "No, dear…They didn't rape her. At least, not from what I could tell. And I should think I would be able to tell, I think that there would have been blood and tearing. Trauma of some manner. Yes, I feel certain they would have left their mark."

Uncas frowned in disbelief. "How can it be so? Why would he spare her that pain?"

"Some Indians won't touch a white woman," she shrugged. "My cousin says white women are witches and that if you have relations with them, your cock falls off."

At this Andiora laughed bawdily, revealing her lack of teeth.

Uncas ignored her and let out a ragged breath. "Can it be so?" he again wondered aloud, a small hope dawning in his chest that Alice had at least been saved from this agony. "But wait…what then did you mean, by 'That is not the worst of it'?"

The healer's face again grew grim and she pulled back the cloth covering Alice's breasts. In spite of himself, Uncas felt his loins tighten at the sight of her round smooth breasts…and then, he saw it. An angry red burn shining on the side of her right breast, right below her pink-hued nipple. It looked like a living thing encroaching upon her skin, like a wolf spider curled there and waiting to strike.

"Ah, Alice," he said, now, tears beginning to form in his dark eyes, "My little one."

The healer moved to speak further, but Uncas waved her away. "Go, please," he said. "I would be alone with her."

She obeyed, shuffling across the dirt floor on her bare feet.

"Wait," he called out.

She looked back.

"Thank you. Thank you. How can I thank you?" he asked her passionately, even as his eyes never left Alice's face, his hand now clasped wholly around hers.

"No need," said Andiora quietly, "It is my calling in this life."

And with that, she left, leaving Uncas alone with his love.


	21. Chapter 21

Alice slept for many hours. Occasionally she would murmur or cry out, but Uncas was able to soothe her with gentle words in Mohican and by carefully stroking her tangled blonde locks. He sat upright beside her, counting her every inhale and exhale, moving only to stoke the fire and keep the room warm for her.

Finally, when night had fallen yet again and Uncas felt his own body becoming weary, Alice stirred and bolted upright in bed. Immediately, Uncas was beside her, wrapping his hands around her arms and keeping her still, shushing her as she looked about in terror and confusion.

"You're safe, you're safe," he whispered. "I am here. It is over."

She blinked her big gray eyes up at him in disbelief. "Uncas?" she asked, her voice ragged from disuse. "Uncas? Is it really you?"

"Yes, yes, 'tis me," he said, easing her back onto the warm blankets. "But you must rest. You are very hurt and you must rest."

She sat up again eagerly, pain lashing across her face as she did so.

"No, no!" she cried out happily. "Rest! Rest! When you are here with me? Never!"

And with that, she nearly crawled into his lap, laughing with tears of joy as her smooth naked flesh rubbed against him. He moaned with desire and pleasure, smiling deeply to see her so happy, so aware…so Alice. Yet he knew she must be in pain, that every touch upon her skin must feel like fire, so he kept his hands away from her body, only stroking her hair.

She continued to croon and cuddle against him, babbling incoherently about how she thought she would never see him again. His whole body thrilled with elation and he beamed down at her.

She kept saying his name over and over again, kissing his face and neck adoringly as she did so. As much as he longed to do the same to her, to stroke her silky exposed skin and squeeze her plump curves, he dared not.

"What is it?" she asked, a hurt look growing on her face as she realized he was holding her stiffly. "Why will you not embrace me? Why do you look at me so?"

Before he could speak, a shadow fell over her face. She went silent and tense. Spurning his lap, she crawled back out of his arms, laying flat on the pallet and then turning away from him. He could not help but notice that this motion left her soft round bottom completely visible to him, and he had to control another moan while he focused on her strangely altered mood.

"Alice?" he asked, reaching out again to hold her hair in his hands, to have some piece of her touching him. "Why do you turn from me?"

"I know why you won't embrace me," she said, her voice muffled. "You think—you think I am ruined. That they—that Magua took my maidenhood."

At this Uncas stiffened. "I think nothing of the sort," he said, barely able to control his voice as he spoke. "Even if I did think that, it would only make me care for you more, not less. You foolish girl! When will you understand that I live only for you?"

She rolled back over and eyed him suspiciously. "Then why will you not touch me? Why will you not kiss me and embrace me?"

He looked down at her body and sighed. She followed his gaze and seemingly realized for the first time that she was naked, and that her skin was a patchwork of wounds. Her cheeks flushed and her large eyes widened even more, as she let out a soft, "Oh."

"I am afraid to hurt you, little one," he breathed. "I would love nothing more than to hold you tightly…It kills me to sit here and not put my hands on you, but it would kill me more to cause you even an ounce of additional pain."

She shook her head violently, boldly sitting up again even as if she knew it bared her breasts to him. "I care not, Uncas, I care not! All I thought about while he tortured me was you—the thought of being in your arms was the only thing that kept me breathing and sane. Don't deny me now, don't deny me this-

Before she could finish talking, Uncas was pulling his shirt off his head. Her eyes widened as he began removing his pants.

"Move over," he said gruffly. "Let me lay beside you."

She obeyed with shining eyes, and opened her mouth to speak.

"No more talking," he said, and he put his mouth over hers, kissing her cautiously as he explored her bruised lips. She still tasted like Alice, still felt like Alice, still responded with the same lusty coos as his tongue entered her mouth. He could feel her beginning to undulate her hips ever so slightly as his kisses deepened, as he began stroking her soft pink tongue with his. So occupied, his hands moved from her hair, down past her breasts, down past her belly…down to the one place Andiora swore they did not harm her.

Her gray eyes flew open when she felt his hands reaching for that spot and she let out an exhale of air as she pulled her mouth away from his.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I want to make the pain go away," he said, slowly easing off the cloth that hid her womanhood from him.

She grabbed his hand with hers, her small fingers warm and trembling upon his large ones.

"H-how?" she asked, utterly confused.

He smiled at this. "By giving you pleasure, lass," he said. "The kind of pleasure a man can give a woman."

She frowned, her pulse racing in her neck as he pulled his fingers out of her hands.

"I thought it was the other way around," she said, an innocent frown upon her face as she again clung to his hand.

"No, it goes both ways," he said, wondering what in the world English men taught their women.

"But—

"Alice?" he said. "Stop talking."

And with that, he again softly pulled his fingers from hers and reached down to the blonde mound between her legs. He smiled as she started in pure confusion when he carefully laid his fingers there, thinking to himself that her hair felt different than other women he had been with—finer, and softer, like velvet.

Watching her face, he slipped one finger in between the lips of her vulva, grinning wolfishly as he felt the wetness that was pooling there. He could tell by the startled gasp she made that she wanted to talk, but he looked down sternly at her and clucked his tongue. She bit her bottom lip as if to silence herself.

He continued stroking her soft wet folds, taking his time as he felt her breaths quicken. When he began to stroke her clitoris with the pad of his thumb, she nearly bucked.

He grinned down at her again. "Have you never touched yourself here, little one?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Instead, she shook her head back and forth, her blonde hair spilling all over the pillow.

"Do you like it when I touch you here, little one?"

She gave something between a tortured gasp and a nod, and he applied more pressure to the spot.

"Can I put my finger inside of you?" he asked.

She was silent, and when he looked up at her again, she was blushing. She nodded quickly, too shy to meet his eyes, and then looked away.

Smiling, he eased into a new position, shifting his weight down to the bottom of the pallet.

"Open your legs for me, lass," he said, "Open them for me."

With a tremble, she heeded his command, and he kneeled in between them, gently opening them wider with his palms against her inner thighs. She was shaking in earnest now.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked in concern.

She shook her head silently.

"Good," he said, and then trailing one finger in her wetness, he slowly inserted one finger inside of her, using his other thumb to continue stroking her clitoris.

He let out a low groan as his finger was finally deep inside of her, as he finally felt her tight warmth envelope him. He felt the need to devour her, to taste her from the inside out. Keeping his finger inside of her, he leaned down and sucked her clitoris, drinking in her sweet juices with animal-like abandon.

Uncas heard Alice pant, and he knew she was completely taken aback by this new state of affairs. He inserted another finger inside of her, which was barely more than her tight opening could allow, as she was now starting to grip her legs tightly shut around him.

He placed one hand on inner thigh and stroked it gently, speaking to her in Mohican to calm her. Then, as she settled a little, he went back to tasting her, slowly swirling his tongue around her clitoris and up and down her slit. He let her get used to his fingers inside of her, and then leisurely began to move them in and out, getting rougher each time.

She reached down and gripped the sheets, clawing at them, as though she was trying to keep from falling off the bed.

He paused and looked up at her, his breath warm on her velvet mound as he asked, "Should I keep going?"


	22. Chapter 22

_He paused and looked up at her, his breath warm on her velvet mound as he asked, "Should I keep going?"_

Alice's eyes flew open at the question, her eyelids fluttering helplessly as she gave a purr-like sound of assent.

Uncas grinned wolfishly. He continued to suck her clitoris and massage her vulva with his broad fingers, inserting another thick digit into her slick opening. Soaked though she was, he met a thin of wall of resistance he knew to be her maidenhead. Resisting the primal urge he felt to push against it, he instead decided to ease her pleasurable torment, quickening his rhythm on her clitoris.

As he mouthed her tender nub, he boldly took his thumb and roughly massaged her anal opening. Alice cried out in shock, then unbridled enjoyment as she bucked against his hand with a sensual urgency that thrilled him. And then, like a strike of lightening, she came—brightly and silently, illuminating the sky with her savage energy.

He watched her with hungry eyes as she rode her first orgasm, pleasure and disbelief rioting across her innocent face all at once.

"What _was_ that?" she finally panted, as Uncas crawled up to lay beside her.

"That?" he asked, bending down to nip at the white shell of her ear. "That was just beginning."

She said nothing but collapsed against him, sighing in exhaustion as her fingers unfurled across his smooth chest. He shifted uncomfortably beside her, willing his erection to die down as he realized she was far too spent to continue further.

"Rest, now, little one," he said, "No more tonight."

"When I wake?" she asked dreamily, her voice drowsy with sleep.

He laughed quietly. "We will see," he said, "If you're a good girl."

And with that Alice sunk into a weak heap against her Indian's chest.

 **oOOOo**

Early the next morning, Alice awoke to the earthy smell of cooking. Before her eyes were even fully open, she felt a warm hand wrap around hers. She looked up and happily sighed.

"Uncas," she said, "You're here."

But when her vision focused she realized that she was staring at Cora.

"Sister!" she cried out, nearly leaping into Cora's arms.

"Nay, nay," scolded Cora, pushing her back down onto the pallet with one hand. "You must not move about."

"Oh, Cora," she said, her gray eyes shining with tears, "I thought I should never see you again."

"Dear girl," whispered Cora, rubbing Alice's soft hand back and forth across her tear-streaked cheeks. "I cannot believe we almost lost you. And look at what they have done to you! My beautiful sweet sister!"

Her older sister then broke down in sobs, as Alice lifted one weak hand to stroke her dark tangled hair.

"Shh, shh," said Alice gently. "I'm alright. My wounds will heal."

After a few moments, Cora composed herself, letting out a ragged sigh as she looked at Alice deeply.

"You seem…different," she said, looking across Alice's face as if searching for someone or something. "Different then when I left you."

"I am stronger than when we last saw one another," said Alice, a little proudly. "I have always longed to be strong like you."

Cora choked on a laugh. "You've always been stronger than me," she said, "Do you remember when we were little girls and our little bulldog ran out into the rain?"

Alice nodded, smiling at the memory of her beloved pet Charles.

"And the nurse said we weren't allowed to go after him because of the storm?"

Alice nodded.

"Do you remember what you did?" asked Cora. "You pretended to retire your room as she commanded, but later that night we found you had snuck out of your window and down the trellis. When we found you hours later, you were soaked through and had a twisted ankle…but you had Charlie with you, tucked safely inside your jumper."

Alice laughed. "Oh, how cold I was! Father was sure I would get pneumonia."

"But you didn't," said Cora. "And Charles lived for many more happy years with us…all because you were brave enough to search for him alone in the rain."

Alice smiled. "I couldn't lose him," she said, "I loved him too dearly."

"Loved who?" asked a familiar deep voice.

Alice turned her head slightly to see Uncas standing there. He was carrying a plate of sweet potatoes and braised deer meat.

"Charles," said Alice lightly, "My first love."

Uncas's expression darkened as Cora took the plate from him.

"Oh yes," said Cora. "He was such a handsome fellow."

"Yes," agreed Alice, continuing to goad Uncas as she watched his dark eyes flash. "So handsome…a bit slobbery though!"

Cora nodded vigorously, hiding her smile. "Oh, true. And he did have a nasty habit of piddling on the living room rug."

The two women dissolved into uproarious giggles as Uncas's face was now shrouded in utter confusion.

"I'm speaking of our dog Charles," said Alice, reaching a hand out to grab Uncas and pull him closer.

He laughed a sigh of relief and playfully wagged his finger at her. "You aren't even recovered yet and you are trying my patience! But enough of that," he said, suddenly serious. "You must eat."

"Aye," said Cora, "You're skin and bones. Nathaniel told us…Nathaniel told us they wouldn't let you eat."

At this revelation, Cora's voice broke, but instead of giving into tears, she resolutely spooned some potatoes onto a utensil and handed it to Alice.

She took a bite and moaned in approval. "It's heavenly, sister," she said, "But, tell me, how is Nathaniel?"

"He is well," Cora said, "He is recovering. He even went hunting this morning."

Alice smiled, taking another bite as she stroked Uncas's arm fondly.

"He was so good to me," she said, "I remember…I remember Nathaniel's voice, singing to me, soothing me…when I was at my darkest. He held me."

Uncas looked down at the blanket as rage suffused his handsome face. Hearing of what Alice had been through continued to reduce him to animal-like ferocity, even though he was relieved that his brother had been there to offer her comfort.

As if sensing his emotional shift, Alice brightly took another bite and asked Cora, "So tell me, does he speak to you of marriage?"

Cora gasped. "Alice!" she said, pleasure spreading across her face even as she pretended to be taken aback. "I know not what you mean."

Alice sweetly smiled. "Oh, no, of course not. He is just a dear friend, I suppose."

"You suppose right!" said Cora, unable to keep from beaming at her sister. "A _most_ dear friend."

"But, of course," mused Alice, "He will want to wait until he can ask our Father for your hand."

The stunned and silent expressions on Uncas and Cora's face made Alice pause mid-bite.

"Well, I know this is the New World but surely it is not so new as all that?" she asked, confused by their unhappy faces.

Cora shook her head slowly. "No, no…it is not that."

"Then what?' asked Alice in alarm. "He has not been injured, has he? Is he not safe at Fort Campbell?"

Uncas shook his head, while Cora grasped her hand softly.

"Alice, dear, Magua and his men took the fort," she explained. "Father escaped but…we know not where."

Alice looked relieved. "Well, he is safe, then! He is probably looking for us as we speak. He cannot be far. And he has the King's Army on his side!"

Again, Uncas's face darkened. "He is not looking for you, little one," he hissed angrily. "He ran like a coward and refused to make a deal with Magua for your safe return. Because of him you suffered unspeakable torment and-"

Cora clucked her tongue at Uncas to keep him from continuing. Alice's mouth fell open in amazement.

"It cannot be so!" she said. "Father is nothing if not a brave solider."

"No, dear," corrected Cora quietly. "Uncas is quite right…he refused to be exchanged for you."

Alice's vision clouded and spun, and she delicately lifted a hand to her head.

"Are you alright?" Cora asked, as Uncas applied his own hand to her, stroking her blonde silvery locks with his dark fingers.

"My head is spinning," she said weakly, "I cannot eat anymore. Please take it away. I can't abide the smell."

Cora quickly removed the plate and stood, as Uncas wrapped his body beside her and pulled her glistening forehead against his cool chest.

"You will watch over her?" asked Cora as she stood near the tent opening, even as she realized that the question need not be asked.

He did not look up as he continued stroking Alice's wavy hair, murmuring quietly to her in Mohican.

"I will," he finally said to Cora's waiting shadow. "She will never be hurt again while I am standing on this earth."

Cora felt some of the tension leave her body as she walked out, reflecting that this was the first time in seventeen years that she had not been frightened for her little sister's welfare. Only a fool would miss the passionate ardor in Uncas's eyes, and the realization that he would enter Hell itself if it meant keeping her safe.

Thinking of Magua, the dark-haired girl shivered. Hell might be closer than one would think.


	23. Chapter 23

_The previous chapter has been edited to reflect that Uncas does NOT have chest hair! ;) And thank you all for continuing to offer support for this story, especially loyal reviewers like_ _MohawkWoman,_ _assiage, and Aspen14._ _But truly every review means a lot to me, so thank you all!_

 **oOOOo**

 _A week later_

Uncas stared down at the sleeping blonde in his arms, her soft hair splayed out across his dark skin like a blanket. Throughout the night, she would murmur and cry out, but he found he could easily still her by stroking her bare arms gently and speaking to her in his native tongue.

He was glad he was able to soothe her back to sleep, not only because he knew she needed rest, but because his heart was heavy with many things. As much as he had enjoyed these past few days with her, he realized that the situation was untenable. Magua and his men were certainly arming for a battle, and there was no escaping the bloodshed that was coming their way. Nor did this frighten Uncas—he had always been a brave warrior, and unafraid of death as only a young, strong person can be. But now, with a wounded Alice by his side, he felt cloaked in dread.

He did not want to leave her, could not bear to see the expression on her face when he told her that he was leaving. Certainly she had been strong up until now and recovering nicely, but he feared that could change if he left. Though Uncas loved her with every cell of his body, he realized that Alice's adoration was different, that it also included an uncomplicated needfulness. He was her polar star, the guiding light she clung to when the darkness crept in.

Uncas saw how her eyes followed him as he moved about the tent, how she responded to him with a child-like obedience when he would order her to eat or rest, even when no one else could talk sense into her. It was almost as if she longed for him to tell her what to do, as if she needed him to give order and direction to the chaos of her life.

Uncas had to admit that her submission was both flattering and arousing, but it also worried him. How would she fare if he was not here to direct her? And was he being selfish by allowing her to rely on him so entirely, by encouraging her to see him as not just a lover, but also a father figure?

Alice moved in her sleep, throwing a leg over one of his. Uncas almost growled with desire as he felt her unconsciously rub her womanhood gently against his outer thigh. He had been refusing all of her advances for days, commanding her to focus on her healing and making sure not to be alone with her too often (which was easy with a watchful Cora always popping in and out).

In truth, he was a bit concerned that he had even pushed Alice too far that first night. Though it was the highlight of his twenty-seven years of memories, looking back upon it, he reflected that Alice had not been totally in her head—she was starving, injured, and senseless with joy. He had only wanted to bring her comfort, some form of pain relief, but perhaps he had been ungentlemanly. Remembering how he had stroked her and touched her in even her most forbidden place made him flush with embarrassment and excitement. Still, if he had pushed her too far, he reflected, why then did she respond with such pleasure and wildness?

Sighing quietly, he wished for the millionth time that he better understood English women. At one moment, Alice seemed almost naïve when it came to things of a physical nature—as if she were an utter child—but at the next moment, she was wholly a woman. Not only a woman, but a woman begging for his touch, for his body, for the release only he could give her. Even now, as she slept in his arms, he felt as though he could smell her very longing, the womanly odor he knew so well now to be hers and hers alone.

As if sensing his thoughts, Alice shifted and awoke, quickly batting her eyelashes across his chest as she adjusted to the low light of the tent.

"Uncas?" she whispered, running her lips back and forth across his pectorals, making him harden with arousal almost instantly.

He knew he should urge her back to sleep but something prevented him from doing so. Perhaps it was his fear of leaving her, or perhaps it was merely that her soft, warm body was too tempting to neglect. Even as she slowly kissed his muscles, carefully tracing reverent lines around his tattoos, he could sense that she was becoming wet.

"Little mouse," he said, running his hands up and down her back. "What are you doing to me?"

She looked up and bit her bottom lip, shrugging. "I don't know," she smiled, "Tell me what to do and I will do it."

"You ought to sleep," he said hesitantly.

"I'm not tired," she sighed, "All I do is sleep. I want—"

Here she stopped, her cheeks flushing a rosy hue.

"What do you want, lass?" Uncas asked, amused by her discomfort, and knowing exactly what was going on behind those dark gray eyes.

" _You_ know," she whispered, " _You_ know…like before. Like the first night."

He faked confusion. "The first night? I don't recall."

Her mouth fell open slightly.

He laughed, then said in a dark, low tone into her ear, "Speak it aloud."

"I can't!" Alice cried out in horror.

"Then how can I know what you mean?" he said, idly twisting one of her locks around his thumb.

She slapped him on the chest in frustration. He laughed at how ineffectual her small hands were, but as he saw the hurt dawning on her face, he stopped.

"Uncas…." She said, "Uncas…please."

He relented, and began kissing her along her quivering jawline. "Don't get upset, dear Alice."

"Don't you…don't you want to?" she asked, her eyes now looking fearfully into his.

He felt as though all the blood in his body was pooling towards his lower body. "More than you know," he said, "More than you know."

"Then why not? Is it because I do not know how to please you?" she asked, worry stalking across her face. "I don't understand. In my country, that is what the men want. A…a virgin. But here it seems…I am uncertain. Is my chastity not a virtue here as it is in my country?"

He put his thumb roughly upon her lips to still her from talking. "I don't care what they want in your country," he hissed. "I don't care what the white man wants from his women. Do you understand? You don't belong to the white man anymore."

She looked up at him with big eyes, and he tightened his grasp upon her.

"You belong to _me_ now, Uncas. Uncas, the son of Chingachgook and the last pure-blooded Mohican born," he said, "And, I, I, Uncas will decide what happens here, what occurs here in the night when we are alone together."

A sad quizzical look passed over her face and she nodded meekly.

"Now," he commanded, "Get up and take off your chemise."

She started in surprise, peering up at him in utter shock.

Holding her in his face, he said, "I will show you what it is to please a man. When I am through with you, your white men will be but a memory. Now—disrobe."

With trembling legs she stood up, her hands hovering by her sides uncertainly.

Sighing he stood up and removed the silk gown in one simple movement, leaving her to emit a small gasp. He took his hands and locked them behind her neck, pushing against her naked body forcefully. A furious blush appeared on her face and she looked down at the ground.

"Look at me," he said. "Come, look at me."

Reluctantly, she did so.

"Do you know what happens when a man and a woman are together?"

She chewed her lip as her eyes flitted across his face, looking everywhere but into his own dark gaze.

"Has anyone ever taught you what happens?"

She continued to stand silently. With a bit of exasperation, he unlocked one of his hands and placed it between them, roughly finding her mound of soft blonde hair. Her hands flew up to his chest in shock, pressing against him as if asking for him to stop.

"Do you know I am going to enter you here?" he asked, beginning to move his fingers across her silky cunt. "Answer me, little one."

When she dropped her eyes again, he roughly stuck one finger inside of her wet opening, gripping his other arm behind her back so that she was unable to move. Alarmed, however, she tried desperately to step backwards, but her movements only allowed Uncas to move deeper inside of her. He did so gladly, inserting another finger and curving forward it, holding her imprisoned upon his hand.

"Uncas—Uncas, I…"

"Well?" he asked, using his thumb to slowly encircle her clitoris. "Answer me."

"I…I…y-yes," Alice cried, her eyes like saucers now under his gaze. "I know."

"Know what?"

"I know…you will enter me…there," she said, whispering the last word so quietly he could barely hear.

"Do you know it will hurt?" he asked, concern growing on his face. "That it will ache and burn and that you might bleed?"

She moaned now, her eyes fluttering shut as his fingers continued to move inside her.

"Do you heed?" he asked, now moving his other hand down to firmly grip her round bottom.

"I—I heed," she breathed, letting her forehead fall forward and collapse on his chest.

"Good," he said, smiling down at her. "Good girl. Are you my good girl?"

"MMmm—mmm," she said, her full lips now open and warm on his chest as she gave into the pleasure mindlessly.

He stopped moving his fingers abruptly and she looked up at him with a pout on her face.

"You must do as I say the whole time," he said, his fingers still buried deep in her cunt. "If you don't obey, I will not continue."

In frustration she gyrated her hips against him, trying to move against his fingers. It was difficult though, as his other hand held her bottom firmly. He smacked it gently, getting her attention once again.

"Aye?" he asked. "You will obey?"

"Mmm—"she said, ignoring him and trying to move up and down on his hand again.

"Alice!" he hissed, smacking her bottom harder this time.

That got her attention.

"Yes, yes, I will obey! I will obey you," she said, groaning with pleasure as he began to move his fingers in and out of her pussy once again. "I will obey you, Uncas…son of Chingachgook…the last pure-blooded Mohican born."

He could take it no longer. Removing his slick fingers, he picked her up and wrapped her legs around him.

"Lie down," he ordered, tossing her down as he began to undo his pants with one hand. "I can wait no longer."

And, then, he freed his large throbbing cock from his pants, and Alice's mouth fell open once again.


	24. Chapter 24

" _Lie down," he ordered, tossing her down as he began to undo his pants with one hand. "I can wait no longer."_

 _And, then, he freed his large throbbing cock from his pants, and Alice's mouth fell open once again._

Uncas grinned a little as he looked down at Alice's flushed face. But, then, realizing what must be going through her mind, his smile faded and he sank gently onto the blankets beside her.

"Little one, we don't have to do anything you don't wish to do," he said, nuzzling her neck as he tenderly stroked his fingers down her chest, being careful to avoid the angry looking brand on her right breast.

"I do...want..." She said, her breath coming in gasps as he began to massage her left nipple with his fingers.

"But you are frightened?" He asked, pulling away and looking into her gray eyes.

"I've never seen...I didn't...it is so large! How...can it enter me?" She whispered frantically into his ear, balling her hands up against his chest and stilling his kisses.

He smiled at her innocence, and then put his body on top of hers, carefully supporting his weight on his strong arms. He bent down and kissed her deeply on the lips, coaxing her mouth open and then massaged his dark tongue upon her small pink one.

He kissed her until he felt her begin to respond to him, until he heard her quiet coos and the near imperceptible movement of her hips against his. The feeling of her naked body almost made him wild with desire.

Pulling away from her, he said, "I will show you how. It will hurt...but only for a while. And then it will feel very, very good."

Her eyes still looked doubtful.

"Let me show you, mouse," he said, and then he left her lips, moving down to the bottom of the blankets and pulling her trembling legs open.

As he applied her mouth to her clitoris, she let out a shiver. He smiled, letting one of his canines gently nip on her vulva as he sank deeper into her wet folds. Like before, she responded voraciously, hungrily, as though she had been waiting for his touch her whole life. This time, Uncas was not so gentle or so wary. He let himself go completely, licking and sucking her from top to tail, his tongue roaming across her every forbidden area. As she bucked her lips, he kept her thighs firmly grasped in his hands, spreading her out as far as legs could do.

He knew he could easily bring her to pleasure, but he wanted to make her wait, to take his time and enjoy the scent and scenery of being between his lover's legs. Her hips moved more urgently, begging for release as her moans became louder, but Uncas continued to linger.

It was not until he heard his Alice-his innocent virginal Alice-say, "Uncas, I beg of you!" that he finally relented. He burrowed his fingers deep inside of her as he sucked hard on her clitoris, holding her there in his mouth as her vaginal walls clenched helplessly over and over again as she came to her climax.

By now, Uncas was so erect he felt he could not stand the pressure any longer. Without a moment's ado, he pushed himself on top of Alice again. Her eyes were shut and she was panting heavily, a faraway smile on her face.

"Remember, lass," he said, "It will hurt at first."

She moaned as he began to kiss her lips, and he had the feeling she was no longer listening to him. Carefully, he arranged himself so that his penis was at her warm opening and then-he pushed himself in.

Her nails tightened across his bare back as he slowly moves forward, degree by degree. He saw the pain radiating across her face as her eyes flew open in fear. No sense in delaying this, he thought, and with one swift movement, he broke against her maidenhead, feeling an incredible tightness around his penis as he did so.

"Ohhhhh," he groaned in utter bliss, as Alice gasped out.

"It burns," she moaned into his ear. "It burns!"

"I heed, I heed," he said, forcing himself to stay perfectly still inside of her, even though every part of him wanted to rock deeper inside of her.

"Is it supposed to hurt so badly?" She whimpered.

He felt a flash of guilt. "I can stop," he said, beginning to push himself away.

"Don't you dare!" She said, gripping him in her hands.

He laughed a little at her intense gaze. "Oh," he said, kissing her bottom lip gently. "I love you."

Her eyes widened, then joy broke over her face. "I love you, Uncas. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," she repeated over and over.

And then to his shock, she began to open herself wider to him, letting her enter deeper then he thought possible. Releasing a string of words in Mohican, he gave up all control and began to move inside her, immersing himself wholly in the pleasure of her tight warm cunt.

He felt her hands unclench on his back as she began to relax, began to allow him in with no reservations and no fear. When he looked down at her, her eyes were steadfastly fixed upon him and filled with complete trust and devotion.

The sight of that sent him over the edge. With a loud exhale of breath, he spilled his seed inside of her, oblivious to all else as the release brought him to a level of exhilaration he did not know was possible.

With a sigh, he collapsed on Alice, still allowing his penis to remain inside her. She shifted uncomfortably for a moment and he acquiesced immediately, pulling out of her and rolling over to his side.

He lay in utter bliss for a few moments, until finally her timid voice broke the silence.

"Was it... Was I... Was it satisfactory?" She asked, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

He looked down at her in disbelief and almost broke out in laughter. But he knew better than to show mirth, so instead, he leaned down and kissed her gently on each eyelid.

"Little one," he said, "It was more than satisfactory...it was the best thing that has ever happened to me."

She smiled peacefully and sagged against him in relief.

"And I?" He asked, suddenly aware of how much she must be feeling. "Did I hurt you very badly?"

She bit her bottom lip. "A little," she admitted, and then quickly, as worry spread across his face, she added, "But I also like-liked it."

He grinned. "What do you like? Tell me."

She blushed furiously. "Uncas! Men and women aren't supposed to speak so."

He laughed at her discomfort. "Don't be absurd! Why not?"

"It's not done!" She said slowly and with much enunciation, as if speaking to a child.

"You English are so strange," he said, sinking back with deep comfort into the blankets and pulling her closer to him. "Do husbands and wives not speak honestly of these things?"

"Of course not," she said, clucking her tongue. "Such things are private. Even among sisters. Growing up, my nurse would even put talcum powder in the tub so we could not see our own naked bodies in the water."

He guffawed at that image, and Alice slapped him playfully.

"Oh," she sighed, "How I would love to sink into a warm bath now."

Uncas frowned slightly. "Why do you need a tub when there's a river just outside to bathe in?"

She groaned. "Oh, yes...cold, fishy water. What a treat!"

Uncas felt his afterglow beginning to fade. "It's good enough for me."

"Oh, Uncas!" She chided. "That's because you have never experienced what modern man has to offer! Warm baths...soft feather beds...fine china...clean clothes. Oh, how I miss my beautiful gowns!"

His face hardened. "You speak of these things as if they are important. Do I not provide for you and give you everything that you need?"

She looked up at him in confusion. "Uncas," she said, "It is not a criticism of you or your people. 'Tis only natural that I should miss home and the comforts I was raised with."

He relented, a pain running through him when he saw the hurt in her sweet face.

"You are right, dearest," he said, clasping her close to him. "I am an ass. I just...I just fear that this life-the only life I can offer you-will not be amendable to you. As you say, you are not accustomed to these hardships. Indeed, were I with a woman of my own kind, she would not even judge these things as hardships."

Now it was Alice's turn to turn stiff in his arms.

Speaking with deliberate, measured tones, she said: "Do not speak to me of other women while you hold me in your arms. Do not dare be so cruel."

"Alice, dear," he murmured, kissing her gently along her ear. "Don't be foolish. I only meant-"

"I don't care what you meant," she interrupted huffily. "Perhaps I would be better off with one of my own kind as well, is that what you think?"

This brought him to a sitting position. Rolling over, he placed her between his legs and carefully positioned his weight in his arms.

"You want to be with one of your own kind?" He asked, his voice dangerous. "Can that really be so?"

She shrugged with affected casualness. "Maybe," she said airily.

"Maybe?" He asked, reaching down with one hand and beginning to massage her unharmed breast.

"Maybe," she said, her breath quickening.

He reached down and began to suckle on her rose pink nipple, letting himself be as forceful as he desired. She responded with a low aching moan.

"Maybe?" He asked again, this time taking a hand and putting it between her opened legs. She hissed in surprise as he began to massage the tender area with his fingers.

"May-maybe," she manage to quiver out.

"Then why are you so wet for me, little one?" He said, moving his fingers gently in and out of her cunt.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

He smiled and pulled his fingers out. He brought it up to her lips. She looked at him in shock.

"Wha-what?"

"Taste it," he said.

"What is it?" She asked in horror.

"It's you," he laughed. "It's you...and me...and us."

"Ohh," she breathed.

And, then, with a purr that made Uncas's penis rock-hard again, she opened her mouth and sucked his fingers dry.


End file.
